


7 | Adore you

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [7]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Seventh in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This seventh instalment takes place in Autumn 2016 - Spring 2017, picking up right after all the events of the preceding chapters:'1 | Back to you (Prologue)'‘2 | You, again’‘3 | You & I’‘4 | You with me’'5 | You without me''6 | Back to you'.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Series: It’s you [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> Please note:
> 
> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

Just in case... *Trigger warning: Some references to symptoms of significant weight loss*

11th October 2016

Eloise feels like everything has happened in a blur, ever since she stepped foot back on Californian soil.

It's been a whirlwind first couple of weeks shooting, and incredibly intense; jumping locations from tense and heated tour bus journeys, to strung out writing and recording studio sessions, to drug-fuelled hedonistic parties.

The script is reflective, observed and heavily nuanced; with the tumultuous emotions, wild 70s styling, tweaked out extras and all the music, there's much to land in every scene. With lots of quick, short takes, it's complicated to shoot and feels a little slow going.

But what they do have in the can already looks amazing; so despite the pressure and the crazy schedule, Eloise could not be happier with their progress.

She's hoping her imminent reunion with Harry will improve her own happiness.

After the wedding, she had just a few days to finish up yet more packing and say her hasty goodbyes before returning back to LA to start shooting Daisy Jones & The Six.

Her cousin, Malin, was moving from Stockholm to London to do her Master's, and Eloise had offered up her Belsize Park flat; so she'd also had to contend with sorting the rest of her things and moving them into Harry's house in Hampstead.

Needless to say, he was thrilled with the permanence. They're officially, unequivocally living together. On two continents.

Braving another goodbye and a short spell of long distance again, he stayed an extra couple of weeks in the UK after she left, getting things sorted and spending some time catching up with his family and friends - he couldn't help but feel he'd been neglecting them of late.

>

Wincing as the gate starts to squeak closed behind her, Eloise waves off the driver from the production company. Hefting her bag over her shoulder, she can't help but grin even as she drags herself up the slope of the dark drive.

She feels only a tad guilty at the little white lie she told him on the phone earlier that afternoon when he'd landed; that she was in for another night in rural inland California, still shooting in dusty arid plains on that sweat box of an old tour bus.

It's her first two day break in the filming schedule and she's practically on her knees already.

She's possibly the most tired she's ever been - even more so than after pulling all-nighters juggling impossible reading and essay deadlines at university.

It's a mental and physical exhaustion, and she feels it deep in her bones - some of which are now a little more on show than she's comfortable with.

Suffice to say, her willpower has been put seriously to the test, desperately trying to avoid the cruel temptation of the catering van on set.

Eyeing the schedule in the car, she figured she has another month or so of filming the most extreme stuff at the height of Daisy's addictions, before she can ease off a little.

The second block of filming from mid-November to mid-December revolves mostly around the band's performances, where she hopes the stage lighting will cut her some slack. The final block in January and February includes the older casted band members' talking head interviews - comprising the running narrative that lends the film its structure.

Needless to say, she's looking forward to her drastically lighter schedule in the New Year already. And all those Christmas carbs.

In the meantime, she'll just have to put up with the infernal hunger, extreme tiredness, headaches, chills and tendency to nod off if she sits or lays anywhere for more than a few minutes.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little apprehensive of Harry's reaction.

>

Having slipped through the door and just managed to silence the tripped alarm before it started blaring, she grabs her phone, drops her bag and drags herself up the stairs.

Disconcertingly puffed from the short climb, she leans against the bedroom doorframe, and can't help but grin at finding him fast asleep and curled up around her pillow. She should have guessed.

It's only 9.45pm, but, given she told him she wouldn't make it home, she can't blame him. Regardless of how often you do it, the jet lag from the eight hour time difference from London to LA never seems to get any easier.

It's all she can do to peel off her (his) oversized hoodie and crawl straight into bed in her baggy t-shirt and leggings. She eases closer, spooning herself around his foetal form, gently draping her arm over his narrow waist. He doesn't even stir.

After pressing a light kiss to the nape of his neck, she falls asleep the instant her head drops, sharing his pillow.

>  
>

13th October 2016

Ben lets himself in, surprised at the unexpected quiet of the house.

Having already checked the pool and the gym, he pauses back in the foyer and cocks his head to listen out again. Nope, nothing.

James and the other guys are waiting in the cars idling on the drive. Unusually, he hadn't had a response when he'd texted and called Harry to chase him up, but he figures he could have fallen back to sleep if Lolly left early with another crazy call time.

"Lazy git!", he chuckles under his breath as he springs lightly up the stairs, taking them two by two.

He's still floating on that post-honeymoon high - they'd landed back home in LA from the Maldives only yesterday - but his new wife's choice way of waking him up for his birthday golfing with the boys had left him positively on cloud nine this morning.

Peeking his head around the bedroom door, his mouth quickly drops open in shock.

That's certainly brought him back down to earth with a bang.

"What the fuck?", he questions lowly, disbelief written across his face.

"WHAT... THE... ACTUAL... FUCK?", he grits out, much more loudly.

Seeing him startle, he pushes himself off the door frame and stalks towards the bed.

Harry is disorientated to wake up so suddenly, surprised at the unexpected intrusion and taken aback by the fury radiating off one of his best friends.

His first instinct is to look to her - still curled up with her back against his side, limbs wrapped around a pillow, hair aflame in the morning sunlight and spread across his chest and the mattress - and quickly tugs up the duvet over her bare back.

Ben looms down threateningly and shoves hard at his shoulder.

"What the fuck?", Harry pleads, genuinely confused. He's hardly ever heard that tone from Ben before, and certainly not directed at him.

"Don't protect her!", Ben growls, affronted.

"Whoa, whoa!", Harry hurls himself up to sitting, holding one hand up placatingly in submission and spreading the other protectively across her back as she starts stirring.

"Don't fucking touch her! What the fuck do you think you're playing at?", Ben spits, face turning an alarming shade of red.

"Ben, calm down! What the hell?", he pleads, hissing a whisper, casting his eyes to where she starts stirring.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? Are you kidding me? It's bad enough ever seeing you in bed with my little sister, Harry, but to see you so calm at having been caught with some slut makes me want to tear your fucking head off-".

"Whoa, what-", Harry hastily interjects, before he's cut off abruptly.

"BEN!", she grabs the duvet to her chest and whirls around. "What the fuck are you on about? Don't talk to him like that! How dare you?", she's instantly furious; the quick flush to her cheeks almost matching her hair.

"Lo-, Lolly...?", he gasps in shock, eyes darting between the two of them, mouth hanging open.

"Of course it's me, you idiot", she scathes, rubbing a hand tiredly over her face.

"What?... How...?", he gapes at her as she just rolls her eyes at him. "What have you done to yourself, Lol?", he asks dejectedly, looking past her red hair - flaming bright in the sunshine spilling through the open curtains - long extensions and pale skin, to take in her significantly skinnier frame, gaunt features and tired eyes.

He's horrified. It's been a long time since he's seen her look so unhealthy.

"Oh, charming... Great to know you both find me repulsive then", she grumbles lowly, gathering the duvet around her and staggering off the bed, leaving Harry stark naked, grabbing her pillow to cover himself.

"You owe him an apology", she spits, barging into Ben's shoulder as she passes, before slamming the door to the ensuite shut behind her. She adds through it at a shout, "Happy fucking birthday, you arse".

"Maaate...", Harry whines, rubbing his face. "I only just avoided a meltdown over it again last night... She's tired and cranky and sensitive as fuck right now", he hisses in a whisper.

"Oh my God, what has she-? She looks...", Ben stutters, upset.

"I know... Trust me, I get it", he winces. "Fuck, let me try and talk her down. Wait for me downstairs?", he jumps out of bed, cupping himself loosely. "I'll be down in ten. Sorry I'm late... And, um, happy birthday", he adds quietly, squeezing Ben's shoulder as he passes to knock on the ensuite door. "Baby? Please let me in", he calls out tentatively.

>

After an agonising pause, she slowly opens the door.

Wrapped up in a huge fluffy bath towel, grasped in her fists under her chin with her arms crossed defensively over her chest, tears track down over the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

After a few seconds eyeing him flatly, her face crumples. Squeezing her eyes shut, she takes a couple of deep, rallying breaths.

He sees her physically relent; shoulders dropping from her ears as she lets out a long breath.

When she opens her eyes again, he's pinned by the acquiescence shimmering in her watery pools of blue.

"Oh, baby...", he steps over the discarded duvet and wraps his arms tightly around her. He can't help but wince over her shoulder, noticing how slight she feels, even with the extra layer of the fluffy cotton.

"I get it, okay? I don't look like me and I don't feel okay... But it's just another few weeks, alright? I promise", she whispers.

"What do you mean you don't feel okay?", he presses lowly, pulling back to look at her and swipe the tears gently from her cheeks.

"I'm tired. And feel weak. And cold. All the time".

"Oh, El.... How you look is one thing, but none of that's okay. That's not alright, baby. Can I make you some breakfast? Just some eggs, at least? Please?".

She nods, "But I'll do it. You're already late; get in the shower".

Pulling the towel from her shoulders to wrap it around her chest, she tugs him down for a quick kiss, before stepping up on her tip toes to plant her forehead against his.

Locking her gaze intently with his, she whispers, "I get that he was shocked, but I'm so sorry that he accused you of that, H. That was so uncalled for. He better apologise".

He gives her another peck, holding her close. "I love and adore you. Any you... But only you; always", he promises before stepping towards the shower.

"Baby?", she calls from the door to the bedroom, making him lean back out the shower door. "Can you tell him I'm sorry for swearing at him, on his birthday?".

>

Staring dejectedly as she stirs, she scrambles eggs at the stove.

She's furious at Ben; but more so for the way he spoke to Harry.

She can understand his reaction. He's always been protective of her. And she can appreciate it would have been a shock for him to see her looking so different from at the wedding just a couple of weeks ago.

To be fair, Harry's reaction yesterday morning hadn't been that different.

He'd almost vaulted off the bed in his groggy confusion, waking up to a head of extra long red hair draped over his chest. It's brighter than it had looked on FaceTime, apparently.

But she's still a little sore at his subsequent rejection.

She had caught his lingering looks and worried glances, but he didn't mention anything directly. Yet.

Then, when they were fooling around in bed, he'd been tentative with her.

She managed to prise it out of him that he thought she felt fragile and that he was worried he'd hurt her. Then he'd tried joking that her jutting hip bones would bruise his. But it felt like rejection, and it stung.

The 1970s were nuts, she'd tried to reason, protesting that she's not glorifying anything; that her appearance is directly linked to her character's drug-fuelled tailspin - deeply unhappy and unstable. And, besides, the camera adds ten pounds.

He'd relented, but warned that he'd be keeping a watchful eye. He'll be with her in LA until December, finalising the album in Malibu and hanging out with Mitch. Catching up on rom coms, no doubt.

When she finally admitted she'd lost twenty pounds in total, he'd maintained they were pretty crucial ones and vowed to 'feed the fuck' out of her to help her put it straight back on.

She'd reassured him she's already looking forward to all the Christmas carbs.

With him too wary of missionary and her too self-conscious to be on top, they'd found comfort in a spooned position. One they don't make use of too often, but definitely ticks some boxes.

>

Stirring from her thoughts to pull the eggs from the heat just in time, she spoons them on to a plate as she hears him pulling his golf clubs out the closet by the front door.

Offering him a hurried few forkfuls and a final kiss, she bids him goodbye before hurrying to get ready herself.

Roll on December, she thinks, bleakly.


	2. Part B

Early December 2016

It feels like they've been in a bubble for the last six weeks. A little love bubble.

With Eloise's crazy schedule of long days, often shooting fraught or intense scenes, she hasn't had much time, energy or inclination to do much more than collapse and curl up in his lap on the sofa each night.

Harry noticed she had been eschewing social situations, instead wanting to quietly decompress or nap away evenings and weekends with him. He'd never deny her that comfort and enjoys all their quality time, but it's out of character. Usually a social butterfly - well, within her trusted circle of friends - she hadn't even seen much of Ben and Mer, or Adele and Rosie.

She's still a little sensitive about her appearance, but has definitely turned a corner and started to look and feel better in the last couple of weeks.

Now she pours over her script, cramming lines, on the balcony sofa, rather than on the treadmill. And she'd even suggested they order in a pizza last night.

He's been keeping a close eye, and trying to be patient and supportive, but it's a huge relief to see her coming back to herself.

So when he gets that heart wrenching call from Louis, it's easier than it could have been for him to book his flight straight home. She'll be okay, but he needs to be there for Lou and his family.

Eloise wishes she could go too, just to try to offer any comfort to them all; Harry included.

>

They check in often.

It's harrowing, and a stark reminder of what really matters in life.

They are amazed at Louis' bravery and composure when he performs his new single live on The X Factor, just three days after. It's heartbreaking to watch.

Harry, Niall and Liam are all there backstage to support him, and when Harry calls her afterwards, he's in awe, and insists he wouldn't have been able to do it.

But he's also furious at Zayn, who didn't show or even bother to call, despite dropping a surprise single with Harry's ex the day before.

They've barely heard from him, so surely can't have really expected him to just show up unannounced?

She wouldn't dare call him on it right now, but suspects he's more irked by the Taylor thing than he realises.

He does readily admit he's missing her.

Wearily eyeing the filming schedule, she wills time to move faster. She has just a few more days on set over the course of the next week and then she's wrapped for the Christmas break and can head straight home, to him.

>  
>

18th December 2016

Eloise wakes with her heart pounding; that uniquely unsettling flare of dread when an unexpected call wakes you in the night.

Squinting at her phone, she clocks that it's just after 4am as she fumbles to accept the call; knowing in her gut it's the one they've been dreading.

That means it's 7am in New York, where he'd had to fly at short notice a couple of days before, to present his just finished album to Rob Stringer, the CEO of Columbia Records.

"Baby...?", she whispers groggily, tentatively.

She hurls herself upright and genuinely fears she might be sick at the sound of the pure anguish and helplessness in his voice. It's low and ragged, choked and hiccuping.

He's broken.

It's devastating.

>

After her trying in vain to offer any kind of comfort and support, he eventually trails off, spent and shellshocked, to just wrenching sobs.

She signs off with a simple promise. "I'm on my way. I'll be with you as soon as I possibly can. Hold on. I love you, so much".

Hanging up, she promptly bursts into tears herself - at the news, at the ache in her heart, for him, for all of them.

>

As soon as she can pull herself together, she calls Jeff, booting up her laptop. "Tell me, how is he really? I'm looking up flights now".

"It's bad, El", he admits lowly. "What about the movie? I thought you were still shooting?".

"Fuck the schedule. I've only got two more scenes. I'll call Reese next; they'll have to move them to January".

"I'll call my dad", he offers. "We can't put H on a commercial flight right now. You can take the jet from LA to here and then we'll get you both home together".

"God, he's lucky to have you. Thank you for always taking such good care of him", she says quietly as her tears spill again.

>

But she soon pulls herself together and flies into action.

She leaves a message for Reese and then apologetically calls the producer, before sending a WhatsApp to her cast mates to explain and wish them a good break.

Having packed like a demon, she's hauling her suitcase and bags down the stairs when Jeff calls again to confirm her car and flight details.

Figuring she has just enough time, she double-checks Lou's instructions before jumping in the shower to strip out the red. It feels disproportionately important that she's properly herself to comfort Harry right now.

>

In what must be some sort of a new record, Eloise makes it to Harry's New York condo by 3pm. And that's with the three hour time jump.

Dashing past the concierge with a hurried wave, she heads straight for the lift, jabbing at the button to his floor anxiously.

Letting herself in with her key, she draws in a shaky, steeling breath when she sees Harry, wrapped in a duvet on the sofa, dozing fitfully in front of Love Actually.

Jeff's on the phone, pacing at the window behind him.

Shutting the door softly behind her, she offers him a silent greeting as she steps up to the sofa and kneels beside Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around him and nudging his head up to rest on her chest.

He stirs immediately and just one look at his red, puffy eyes has her crumbling too.

"Oh, baby... I have no idea what to say or how to help. It's just awful. It's so unfair".

He reaches an arm out of the duvet to stroke her blonde again hair over her shoulder. Summoning a weak, thin smile, he wraps his hand around the nape of her neck and tilts her forehead down to his.

"Just being here is more than enough. It means everything. Thank you, baby", he whispers hoarsely.

"Shit, you're freezing", he adds with a frown. Tugging the duvet up, he pulls her on to his lap and wraps them both up, cuddled together.

She takes almost as much comfort in his tight hold and soothing hands as he does from her.

>

A while later, Jeff interrupts them apologetically to let them know their car has arrived. He's packed Harry's things for him too.

He bashfully gestures to the Barney's bag by the front door and tells her he figured she wouldn't have a winter coat so had one dropped off. He reassures her Glenne told him what to order. It's a gorgeous black Moncler down puffer with a faux fur trimmed hood.

He heads outside first to check the coast is clear of paps before bundling them into the blacked out SUV.

He's a magician. He thinks of everything, every time.

>

After the thirty minute journey from TriBeCa to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, Jeff bids them goodbye with long hugs and whispered words. He's heading to JFK, to head home to LAX.

Eloise tugs Harry up the stairs of the jet, "Let's get you home, baby".

They are soon settled and ready to take off, snuggled up together again under another blanket.

Still reeling and shell shocked, he knows the news hits extra hard after seeing what Louis has been going through.

He lolls his head towards her, reaching to play with the ends of her hair with his free hand. "Distract me, baby. Tell me some good news? Anything".

She counts on her fingers. "We're going home. It's Christmas. It's a good thing you like cinnamon because I'm going to bake you all the Swedish goodies. Hmm, what else?", she taps her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, my God, Rosie and Jason! You'll never guess... She's pregnant! She told me last night at dinner", she grins wider at seeing a proper smile for the first time all afternoon.

Chattering on, she tells him all about it, happy to offer him any distraction, any respite from his pain. She'll talk for next seven hours straight if he needs her to.

He squeezes her hand in thanks, interrupting her to press a kiss to her lips. "Thank you, El, for everything".

He closes his eyes and drops his head to her chest as she starts cording her fingers soothingly through his hair. "Get some sleep, baby".

"We should get them something; Rosie and Jason", he mumbles sleepily.

"We already did", she smiles, dropping a kiss to the crown of his head. "I ordered a huge bouquet of flowers from the car this morning", she explains.

He lifts his head up. "Well, that's very prompt of us", he smiles softly. "I love being a 'we' with you".

>  
>

19th December 2016

Only sleeping fitfully in snatches, Harry and Eloise chat, cuddle and cry their way over the Atlantic. 

Landing at Manchester Airport's private terminal at 6am, they arrive at his family home thirty minutes later.

When they let themselves in, they're surprised to find Anne and Gemma already awake, heads together and chatting quietly in their dressing gowns over steaming mugs of tea at the kitchen table with the cats purring contentedly on their laps.

Harry heads straight for his mum and sweeps her into a long, tight embrace, whilst Gemma pulls Eloise into one of her own.

Eventually, they swap, and when Anne pulls Eloise in, she whispers tearily in her ear. "Thank you for being there for him. Thank you for bringing him home".

>  
>

22nd December 2016

It was Robin who had urged them all to just act normally that first morning, and they'd done their very best.

It has been quiet but sentimental; precious memories made and savoured. Everything feels more weighted.

Eloise and Michal paid close attention, and strived to lend some levity whenever they seemed to be feeling up to some. When they weren't, they were ready to swoop in with quieter comfort and support.

It seemed to be during quieter moments, like when they settle into bed at night or before they get up and face the day, that Eloise can sense it seems to hit Harry all over again. He's very much still reeling and trying to process the news.

The reason he's clingy this morning though, and shamelessly stretching out their lie in, is knowing that he only has another hour or so with her.

As much as he'd love her to stay, she insists she should head to her parent's house to give them some time alone together, before his step-siblings arrive to stay for Christmas. Michal had caught the train home yesterday.

>

Rolling to drape herself over him, chin resting on her hands crossed over his chest, she tries to cheer him up by reminding him of the lovely memories they've made over the last few days.

When they finished decorating the tree, they'd drawn the short straw and subsequently spent hours stringing lights around the outside of the house and in the trees by the front gate. Despite cussing tangled wires and blown bulbs, and her swatting at his hands feeling her up as she balanced on the ladder above him, they were cold but happy. The lights looked magical at night too. Totally worth it.

Without much in the way of arm twisting, she'd shared her Swedish grandmother's top secret family recipe for glögg - mulled wine. It proved a hit, and they've had a batch brewing almost ever since.

They'd taken thermos flasks of it when she'd borrowed a pair of Gem's wellies for their long walk by the river. It was their reward for making it to the romantic old fort at the top of the hill.

She'd had to resort to locking herself in his bedroom to get some frantic internet shopping done in peace, away from his sneaky glances. The Manchester Selfridges store's quick delivery was proving a godsend as she'd been banking on completing her Christmas shopping this week in LA. Smuggling it into the house to wrap and hide everything was another issue, but she'd enlisted Anne and Gemma's help to run interference and keep him out from under her feet.

They'd ordered a Chinese takeaway and all gathered in front of the television, bickering over which Christmas movie to watch first. They got through all the best ones, eventually - from Love Actually and The Holiday, to Home Alone and vintage lesser-known treasures like Santa Claus the Movie.

When Eloise popped to the shops to get the ingredients to start baking up the storm she'd promised him, she kept quiet about the attention she'd received from his eagle-eyed fans.

She distracted him instead with her specialities; Swedish kanelbullar (cinnamon buns) and snegler (little cinnamon swirl 'snails', technically Danish). They devoured them, requesting fresh batches each day.

It kept the house smelling amazingly festive too. Even Harry readily accepted it was better than his beloved Diptyque 'Cannelle' cinnamon scented candles.

She'd made a triple batch of each yesterday afternoon, to tide them over in her absence. She scribbled down the recipes for Anne too.

With one thumb raking over her cheekbone, and the other hand combing her hair down over her bare back, his soft smile grows as she talks animatedly, rich blue eyes sparkling.

"To new traditions...", he smiles again, craning his neck forward to capture her lips with his.

"Plenty more of those still to come", she whispers against his lips.

>

Once they finally manage to drag themselves from his bed to shower and dress, he succeeds in pulling her back down to the bed for another heated kiss when they hear the crunch of car tyres on the gravel drive.

It's her dad, arriving early to collect her.

Harry wails into her kiss and rolls, pinning her down with his weight.

"How am I supposed to cope without you?", he whines lowly into her ear as he presses open mouthed kisses down her neck, along her clavicles and back up the other side.

She pushes at his shoulder to be able to look into his eyes - an intense forest green in the wintery low light.

Tracing her thumbs over each corner of his sharp jaw, scratching lightly over his stubble, she swallows thickly. "Promise me you'll call me whenever you need to talk, H? Any time, day or night?".

"I promise. Thank you, for everything", he kisses her again, before easing his weight off her. "I love you, so much".

He pulls her up from the bed as they hear Anne greet her Dad at the front door.

She insists he come in for a cup of tea and a snegler.

He compliments her pronunciation. "Never quote me on this, but Lolly's are better than her grandmother's", he boasts.

>

Once he's done dragging her suitcase and bags downstairs, Harry is pulled straight into Crispin's tight hug.

He bats off his apologies for him having had to drive three hours each way to get her. "Not at all, I'd willingly drive for thirteen hours just to get three uninterrupted hours catching up with my girl".

They both look at her fondly across the kitchen, where she talks Anne through the new recipes. "Yeah, I get that", Harry says wistfully.

>

As Crispin hefts her suitcase and bags into the boot of her Porsche Macan - "It needed a good run", he explains - Eloise makes the rounds, saying her goodbyes.

When Harry pulls her into his arms, she leans back, eyeing him sternly. "Now, I've hidden your presents... But you'll never find them until I tell you where on Christmas morning, so don't even bother looking!".

When he only smirks back, she narrows her eyes in suspicion. He's up to something.

She promptly loses that train of thought when he pulls her back in for a tight hug and the few snatched kisses he'll brave in front of her dad.

Resting his forehead against hers, he squeezes her hands in his, entwines their fingers and pulls them up to rest against his chest. "I love you, baby, so fucking much".

"I love you too", she kisses him back, feeling the solid thump of his heart against her palm.

They break apart, hearing the engine roar to life and a cheesy Christmas tune blare from her speakers.

"Oh, God help me...", she wails dramatically.

With a final peck and squeeze of Harry's hands, Eloise rounds the bonnet to the driver's side, with an expectant look.

Her dad says nothing but just shakes his head and eyes her knowingly.

After the briefest of silent standoffs, she relents; he's even more stubborn than she is.

Trudging back to the passenger door, she calls out her final "Goodbye's", blowing kisses to Harry.

She turns down the volume, only for her dad to crank it straight back up. She mouthes "Help!" playfully out the window as he pulls slowly forward to the automatic gates, dancing playfully in his seat.

>

The second they're out of sight, she's immediately overcome with an uncontrollable racking sob, bursting into tears and pitching forward over her lap.

He plants a firm hand on her back and soothes softly, "Oh, my darling, I know... Let it all out. You've done so well".

She hadn't realised quite how tired or affected she has been. It's pretty exhausting tiptoeing around on tenterhooks, senses constantly on high alert.

But she misses him already. She texts him to tell him so.

They continue to trade messages for much of the journey home. Indeed, for the next few days.


	3. Part C

25th December 2016

With her face still firmly buried in her pillow, Eloise groans as she pats her hand blindly on the nightstand for her phone, ringing quietly.

Yanking it from the charging cable, she draws her arm in and burrows back into the duvet.

"God Jul, baby!", Harry singsongs before she can even say hello.

"Well, Merry Christmas to you too!", she coos back.

Hearing the smile in his voice would have been enough to stretch one across her face, but that he's either remembered or looked up some Swedish has her positively beaming.

"Don't tell me I woke you?", he asks at her gravelly, muffled voice.

"Then don't ask and I'll tell you no lies", she yawns. "What time is it anyway?".

"Seven fifteen".

"Oh, babe, whyyyy?", she whines, "It's so early!".

"Well, sorry for wanting to be the first to wish you Merry Christmas", he chuckles.

"Shit, you're cute...", she grins back, promptly flipping over on to her back and settling down against her pillows.

"I'm about to head down to help mum in the kitchen so we can start opening presents sooner", he explains keenly.

"I can practically hear you bouncing on your bed in excitement, you overgrown man child you!".

"Heyyyy! Why are you so crabby? ...Oh shit, are you hungover?".

"Maybe... A tiny bit? Oof, I'm not drinking today, that's for sure", she admits with a wince, laying a tentative hand on her forehead. "It's Dad's fault; he broke open the Aquavit. That stuff's dangerous and I'd already been drinking red wine all afternoon, self-medicating whilst helping mum in the kitchen".

"You've blown it! Peaking before the big day like an amateur? Pshh, I don't know...", he sasses, shaking his head. "And now you'll have to deal with your mum on a hangover".

"In my defence, we've got two big days. Swedish then English. Christmas Eve is Mum's. Today is Dad's; way more fun, naturally".

"How did I not know that? What's a Swedish Christmas Eve then?".

"Erm, well lots of glögg. Cinnamon, well, everything pretty much. A julbord, which is like a festive smorgasbord - cured salmon, pickled herring, ham, meatballs, rye breads, cheeses... That kind of thing. A tonne of washing up, that's for sure. Lucas and Ollie got smashed; Mum was stressed. The usual".

"And full-on turkey with all the trimmings today?".

"Yep. Dad loves it. He's probably in the kitchen already... You're going to need to roll me on to the flight back to LA".

"And what about presents?", he asks, a little hesitantly.

"Dad insists they're after lunch, no matter how much we nag. The wait is bloody torture!", she laughs.

"I, err, might have left a little something with Ben for you", he says softly. "Hope it'll be worth the wait".

"So sneaky! I'm even more impatient now", she whines. "Your mum has yours. Go on, go and give her a hand. Call me later?".

"Oh, erm...", he trails off. There's a little rustling before he pipes up again. "Jag älskar dig", he says, a little hesitantly.

He butchers the pronunciation, but she can't help but simper at the sentiment. "Oh, I love you too, baby, so much".

After finally hanging up, she grins, staring moonily at the soft photo of him on her lock screen.

Distracted by a clatter from the kitchen, she hauls herself out of bed to freshen up before heading down to see if she can lend a hand. And find some painkillers.

>

After their long lunch, they finally settle down in the living room, around the Christmas tree. She's the only one still completely sober, so ends up crawling around, digging under it and doling out presents.

They never go crazy, but she receives some lovely, thoughtful gifts from her parents and brothers. As she then surreptitiously checks around the back and under the tree skirt, she can't help but feel a little disappointed not to find anything else.

Hearing Ben clear his throat pointedly from across the room, she whirls around to see him waggling a small square present in her direction.

"Looking for this?", he teases with a shit eating grin and a rosy tint to his cheeks. His hangover remedy of choice this morning had been hair of the dog. And then some.

Grabbing the rest of the family's attention as she leaps to her feet, she can't keep the smile off her face as she wrestles with him before successfully snatching it out of his hand.

Hastily tearing off the wrapping paper, her mouth drops open in surprise as she eyes the square case. Prising it open, she gasps to see the blank CD, with Harry's name scrawled across it in his own distinctive handwriting.

"Oh, my God! Is this...?", she cuts her eyes back up to Ben's.

His coy smile tells her all she needs to know.

With a squeal, she grabs her mug of chai tea off the side table and dashes out the room.

After digging for her keys in the bowl on the hall table, she hunches her shoulders against the cold as she jogs over the gravel to her car without a coat.

It's the only CD player she can think of that would afford her any privacy.

Cutting the engine after turning on the heat and the music, she holds her breath as she hits play before wrapping her hands around her mug and settling back into her seat.

It's exactly fifty eight seconds later that she turns the engine back on.

>

His voice is like a homing beacon, drawing her to him.

So overcome, so in awe, she's in a state of disbelief. Of his gift - literally and figuratively; of him; of him being hers.

By the time she's played it straight through four times, she's pulling into the drive.

It's almost 6pm and the twinkling lights she and Harry laboriously strung the week before invitingly beckon her in.

After a few seconds failing to pull herself together, she's out the car and raising a shaky hand to the doorbell.

Harry's step-brother, Mike, answers; a little defensively as they're not expecting any company.

He's shocked at what he sees. They've only met twice and it takes him a moment to recognise her, given the state she's in.

With an awkward stutter and hands raised placatingly, he steps back into the hall, not quite sure how to handle this emotional wreck.

"Who is it?", Anne calls, pulling off her washing up gloves as she rounds the corner from the kitchen.

Her jaw drops when she sees Eloise, standing on the doorstep unannounced, silently sobbing, with her eyes and nose red, mascara staining her cheeks, and long blonde hair a wispy mess, falling out of the lopsided bun on her head. She's shivering without a coat, in just an oversized cream Arran jumper, black leggings, slouchy socks and her blush pink shearling slippers.

"Oh, my darling! What's wrong?", Anne gasps, tentatively reaching for her as Mike backs awkwardly away down the hallway.

Eloise's face crumples with a fresh wave of tears as she tries to answer.

"Are you okay? Is everyone okay?", Anne pushes. Casting an eye over her Porsche on the drive, she'd just stopped, so much as parked, and the door's still open, but otherwise it looks intact.

Feeling Eloise melt into her touch as her hand meets her arm, Anne calls over her shoulder, "H...?".

"Harry?", she tries again, louder over the quiet laughter from the living room.

"HARRY!", she shouts, making Eloise flinch and run a ragged hand over her face before she starts apologising.

"WHAAAT?!", he shouts jokingly back as he gets up from the sofa, adding a grumbling "Not today, surely?", under his breath as he jogs around the corner.

He pulls up short, seeing her unexpectedly over his mum's shoulder.

"El! Baby, what's wrong?", he asks frantically, sliding past his mum to pull her tightly into his arms. "Are you okay? Is everyone okay?".

He gets all the more worried when she buries her head into his neck and starts sobbing harder, clutching at his hoodie.

He thought her shaking was down to the crying, but gasps when he feels her cold nose against his neck. "Shit, you're freezing! Come in, come in".

Prising her car keys from her hand, he passes them to his mum. "Can you...?", he nods to her open car door, spilling light from the Porsche's interior into the dark night.

It's then that he notices the blank CD case clutched in her other hand. Oh, shit, okay.

He unwraps his hands from around her shoulders and slips them down to her arms, taking a step back to look her up and down. "Did you drive in your slippers?", he chuckles, nervously.

As she dazedly looks down at her fuzzy feet, he bends his knees and scoops her up, wrapping her long legs around his waist as he turns away from the noise of his family in the living room.

>

Settled on the small sofa in the corner of the kitchen with her cradled in his lap, he eases her head back out from his neck and rakes her hair behind her ear, revealing her watery, red eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

"So, umm, you got your present then...?", he asks tentatively, licking his thumb before raking it under her eye and wiping it off on his black sweatpants before repeating the action on the other side.

Exhaling a long, shaky breath, she draws her fingers up his chest and hooks them into the tied neck of his black hoodie. Shifting back a little on his lap, she braves a look deep into his sparkling green eyes as she nods.

"Did I fuck up?", he winces, biting his pouty lower lip. "Sorry! I just figured after last time that it would be better to give you some privacy for your first listen...".

Reaching a shaky hand up to stroke his jaw, she finally cracks a smile. "I've had privacy for four listens now...".

Angling his head, she surges in to kiss him, intent on conveying the depth of her feelings whilst desperately trying to find worthy enough words. Hell, any words.

Eventually pulling back, panting for breath, he rests his forehead to hers as he clears his throat and eyes her closely. "So, umm, does that mean you didn't hate it?", he asks with a hopeful, soft smile.

"Oh, H...!", she splutters. "You have literally left me speechless. There are no words to explain how proud of you I am. It's incredible, Harry! I love it so, so much... God, I love you, so much".

She melts against his chest and kisses him again.

>

They pull apart when Anne creeps into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. "Sorry, sorry! Don't mind me", she singsongs, continuing to tiptoe she flicks on the kettle.

"Best. Present. Ever", Eloise whispers against his lips.

"No", Harry shakes his head, adamantly, "That's you, being here".

"God, I'm so sorry to just show up! I was listening in the car and just started driving... I just had to see you-".

He cuts her off with a playful kiss. "Merry Christmas, baby", he says sweetly as he pulls back.

"I had music on my radiooo", she sings back in a quip, making him snigger.

>

When Anne sets a mug of tea on the table for her, Eloise reaches out an arm to pull her down into a hug. "Thank you. And Merry Christmas! And sorry to just gatecrash, unannounced".

Anne hushes her with a kiss to her head, "Nonsense!".

"God, this boy of yours...", she gestures to him with a beaming smile across her face.

"Oh, I get it, believe me... He sprung it on me yesterday whilst we were prepping vegetables. You should have seen me; snivelling and sobbing into the sprouts!", she chuckles, petting his hair fondly.

"Join us next door when you're both ready. Did you eat at your parents', love? There's plenty leftover, so help yourself to anything".

She gasps. "I should call and let them know... Shit! I don't even have my phone", she realises.

"Okay, that's worse than me and the sprouts! I'll get Harry's for you. They'll be worried", Anne turns to head back into the living room.

"I mean it, Harry...", she turns back to him and eyes him seriously, hands on his broad shoulders. "You've totally blown me away. It's so, so incredible. My new favourite ever album, by a mile... You've worked so hard on it, and it's going to do so well".

He grins, eyes crinkling and dimples popping. "Thank you. It means everything, you saying that".

"Will you play it for me again later, just us? To talk me through each track?".

"Of course", he drops a kiss to her forehead.

"Maybe tomorrow, though? I'm not sure I'm emotionally up for it again just yet", she grins softly as Harry takes his phone from his mum and dials Ben's number on speaker phone.

"Did she get to you okay? I was just about to call...", Ben asks hurriedly, despite his slight slurring.

"I'm so sorry! I forgot my phone", she admits sheepishly.

"Yeah, Dad was pissy about that", Ben chuckles. "But now we're all just eager to hear it for ourselves... Must be pretty special? Thanks H, for raising the bar for gifts to an impossible new standard. Mer's been giving me shit all afternoon", he scoffs a laugh.

Once they get him off the phone, they sit and stare at each other for a bit; soft smiles and softly stroking fingers.

He breaks the comfortable silence. "Let's take that up to my room", he gestures to the CD case still clutched in her left hand. "Gem's been desperately trying to ferret it out", he explains as he lifts her on to her feet so he can stand.

>

As he ushers her into his bedroom, notably without any belongings, he laughs. "I cannot believe you didn't bring anything with you!".

She's distracted as she spots his still wrapped presents from her on his nightstand.

Turns out he'd held off opening them, wanting to wait and do it with her. Hypocrite, much?

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, opposite her, he finally unwraps them.

A first pressing vinyl of Van Morrison's Astral Weeks; his all-time favourite. More vintage band t-shirts. A classic Mont Blanc pen - giving him no excuses for a difficult second album. She'd also commissioned a silver ring cast for him; a rose, modelled on the tattoo at his elbow.

He loves it. Sliding it straight on to the fourth finger of his right hand, he promises he'll never take it off.

Fittingly enough, he leans across her to dig in his nightstand drawer for one more wrapped present.

Dropping it into her lap with a coy smile, he leans back, eyes fixed on her whilst tracing his new rose ring with his index finger.

Her eyes widen when she sees the Cartier logo. Shit, what's he done now?

Opening the red velvet box with trepidation, she gasps at the beautiful trinity ring - delicate interlocking bands of different metals, one diamond encrusted. "Oh, H! I love it", she coos delightedly.

Plucking it from the box, he slips it on the fourth finger of her right hand, admiring it before dropping a kiss to the back of her hand.

Flipping it over and lifting it up to his cheek, she guides his head up for a kiss as they whisper their "Thank you's" between pecks.

>

When they head back downstairs to the living room, she bends to give everyone quick hugs and "Hello's", apologising again for crashing.

Harry introduces her to Archie, his step-sister's little boy, currently cuddled up next to Gemma.

"Uh oh, they put rings on it!", Gem jokes, clocking their new jewellery. "The album must be good then! But, oh wait... I wouldn't know", she huffs pointedly.

"Oh, leave off!", Harry levels back. "I'll play it for you tomorrow, alright? Happy now?", he ruffles her hair, teasing good naturedly.

He pulls Eloise on to his lap on the love seat, settling down to watch a movie.

"Oh, come on, not Love Actually again!", Anne groans, making them all laugh.


	4. Part D

26th December 2016

Despite Anne reading Harry the riot act last night, imploring him to have a lie in and give them all some peace, he'd nudged Eloise awake at dawn with a proposition she couldn't refuse.

The urgent press of his hips and his morning wood proved mighty compelling.

But their sleepy morning sex wasn't quite as languorous as she'd envisaged, and they'd been awake ever since; kissing and cuddling and talking.

He'd finally relented, giving in to her pestering to talk her through the album; but, evidently feeling a little anxious, had employed some delaying tactics, insisting he fix them coffees first.

Without her phone to pass the time, and not wanting to snoop around his room, she resorts to watching the clock on his bedside table.

How can it possibly take eighteen minutes to make coffee?

With her impatience boiling over, she finally bites the bullet and decides to go down and hurry him up.

>

Peering her head around the bedroom door, she takes a cautious peek into the quiet hallway.

With a resigned sigh, she tugs his oversized black hoodie further down her bare legs and makes a point of picking up her feet to avoid scuffing down the hallway carpet in her slippers.

Rounding the corner from the stairs, she jumps in surprise to find Anne in her dressing gown, loitering by the doorway to the kitchen.

Pulling at the hem of the hoodie again, she creeps mischievously up behind her, intent on making her jump. Thankfully, she just spots her tears in time.

Rubbing a soothing hand down her arm, she peers around her to catch sight of Harry, cuddled into Robin on the sofa in the far corner of the kitchen.

Pulling quickly back, she pivots and wraps Anne in a tight hug. "Their bond is so special".

Anne lets out a quiet sob. "Sorry. Think their moment is rubbing off on me".

"Don't apologise". Eloise eyes her closely as Anne pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes and blowing out a long breath.

Eloise pulls her straight back into her arms, just in time to catch her second wave of tears on the shoulder of Harry's hoodie.

>

Once Anne manages to compose herself, she cups Eloise's face affectionately and swipes the sympathetic lone tear tracking over her cheekbone away before reaching up to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Come on; looks like they could do with a brew too". With a squeeze of her hand, she pulls her into the kitchen.

>

With hugs and watery eyes all round, it's Gemma that breaks the tension when she appears in the kitchen soon after, with a cat casually draped over her shoulders.

Clocking the heavy atmosphere at once, she sucks in a breath, claps her hands and announces brightly, "You know what this morning needs?".

To the resounding sighs, shrugs and shakes of their heads, she offers jazz hands and a wide smile. "Album listening party!", she trills excitedly.

Harry, now perched at the island unit in his dressing gown, snorts a laugh before grinning at her with a rueful shake of his head.

"Yes, please!", Robin says decisively, ruffling Harry's hair.

"It's only seven thirty! Later this morning, alright? I promise", he relents.

Downing his coffee, he stands and takes Eloise's hand, dragging her out the room and back towards the stairs.

>

Closing his bedroom door behind them, Eloise chuckles softly as Harry throws himself on the bed dramatically.

Peeling his head up from where it's buried in a pillow, he groans out "Lock it. Please... I need a time out".

"Would you prefer to be alone, I can give you some space?", she checks.

"No", he lifts an arm to waggle his fingers at her, invitingly.

She does as he asks and climbs on to the bed, stretching out alongside him.

"You okay, baby?", she asks softly, raking a hand over the back of his dressing gown.

After their intense lovemaking earlier and then his heart to heart with Robin, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster of a morning already.

The prospect of talking her and then his wider family through the album means the likelihood of plenty more tears is sky high.

Pushing at the crook of her elbow, he smoothly pulls her down to the mattress and rolls to nestle his head on her chest.

"I will be", he answers quietly, as she cords her fingers soothingly through his hair.

>

A while later, raking his hand down her side and over the curve of her hip, he eyes her with a cheeky grin as he dips his fingers slowly under the hem of her (his) hoodie.

He gasps into her neck, "As if you were down there, not wearing any underwear!".

"Oh God, don't! I hesitated too long and then figured it would be rude to leave", she blushes. "Besides, I didn't see you rushing to give me your dressing down to spare my modesty", she pinches him.

"Well that wouldn't have made anything less awkward...", he snorts a laugh. Twisting his arm to pluck her hand off his bum, he pulls it around to his front, slipping it into the dressing gown.

"Not wearing any either", he singsongs, pressing his hardening length into her palm.

As he surges forward to capture her lips, he smoothes his hand down her long thigh, hooking it behind her knee to draw her leg up over his waist, pulling their cores flush together.

"You know how you said I should let you know when I need you?", he whispers, flexing teasingly.

She just laughs softly in response and reaches down to grasp his length, angling him towards her to slide home.

>

As their breathing returns to normal, she rolls on to her back and swats him on the chest. "I'm on to you, Styles...", she lolls her head on the pillow to look at him knowingly. "Time to press play; come on, no more dilly dallying!".

With a groan, he pulls himself up to reach for his phone from the pocket of his discarded dressing gown before settling back against the headboard.

Looking up at him eagerly, she shifts to lie perpendicular, wiggling her head in his lap in excitement.

"Well, if you want to avoid distractions, I'm going to need you to stop that, for starters!", he smirks down at her whilst unravelling the tangled headphones.

As he rakes her hair out the way to insert the other earbud, she shakes her head and pushes his hand upwards. "For you".

He shakes his back, sassily. "I've heard it more than a few times now, you know?".

"Come on, baby... Share this with me, please? It's just me", she levels.

>

With an earbud each, he bends to drop a sweet kiss to her lips.

Cueing up the music and pressing play, he quickly pulls up the Notes app and hands over his phone to let her pour over the lyrics, appreciating her love of words and the power she finds in them.

But his words, in his voice? Some of his songs evidently about her, about them? It's all too much. 

Staring moonily up at him, she alternately tears up, smiles softly, grins broadly, nods her head, and shimmies against his lap. She has all the feels. All of them.

Twirling his fingers through her long blonde waves, he smiles softly down at her, carefully cataloging her reactions to the fruits of his labour.

His muse, his everything.

Swiftly hitting pause after each track, she can't help but repeat particular lines back at him, praising clever wordsmithery and phrasing.

She listens with rapt attention as he tells her the quick story of each song and reveals which were inspired by her and their experiences together.

Meet Me in the Hallway stemmed from the anticipation, and his want and need for her after yoga night. He was desperate for her, but had to keep his distance, knowing the subsequent absence would be too hard to bear.

"'Cause once you go without it / Nothing else will do", she repeats back to him in awe; remembering his haste to leave that night, adamant they'd be so much more than just a one time thing. He was so sure, even then.

The song is a promise to do his best for her, for them, knowing they have something epic. He couldn't start the album any other way.

She's in pieces, already.

Raising a shaky hand to stroke his jaw reverently, she takes a deep breath and braves the play button again.

Oh shit, the big guns.

She had a sneak preview of Sign of the Times in Jamaica, but nothing could have prepared her for its full five and half minutes of glory.

He reveals how it literally poured out of him in less than half an hour. That he's still not quite sure where it came from, but that he's sure she inspired it somehow. It's about epic future shit or something, so she must have.

He also sheepishly admits he left her guide harmony as a layer in the gospel choir's runs at the end. He wanted her on it, just for him.

Carolina was his Dad's favourite when he played the album to him on Christmas Eve. That and Two Ghosts, he explains, he had written before they were together.

Bashfully, she braves the question, "Who was she?".

"No one important", he reassures with a shake of his head.

"But influential enough to write a song about?", she probes, genuinely curious.

He bends to drop a kiss to her lips, whispering against them, "And yet not enough for a second date...". Eighteen months in, she'll accept that as a good point, well made.

"What about Two Ghosts?", she smiles softly.

"Ah, an oldie, but a goodie. I wrote it years ago, still in the band. It was one of the first tracks I held back; I just couldn't bear the thought of not getting to sing all of it". That's quite the weighty revelation.

Sweet Creature moves her to happy tears.

Pouring over the lyrics, she's shocked to recognise a line inspired by her letter in the journal she'd given him for Christmas last year. "When I run out of road, you bring me home".

"I'll credit you, don't worry! You're the most talented writer I know, El... You have a gift with words. I needed your stamp on my debut", he smiles sweetly, cupping her cheek.

She presses her head into his palm before shaking it slightly. "It was a gift, baby. All yours", she beams up at him.

To learn he wrote the song about Gemma only makes her love it more. Then he admits he finds parallels with her too, the more he hears it. Oof.

The tempo picks back up with Only Angel.

"This one's all about you, obviously", he smirks.

"Oh, 'obvershley'!", she teases, creasing into laughter.

"My brothers will be thrilled", she adds as she squirms away from his tickling fingers.

"Well, they'll fucking kill me for Kiwi then!", he fakes a goofy grimace.

He admits she definitely inspired parts of it, but that it was mostly just the chaotic bit of fun they needed to round out the album.

"If it was the 'Hard candy' verse you'll be in trouble", she sasses.

He laughs gleefully before singing back lowly, sexily, "Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect... Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck. Driving me crazy".

God, she can't wait to see him perform that one live.

The mood gets a little more somber after Ever Since New York. It was just about feeling helpless and far from home, but he admits it hits a little differently after the events of the previous week; almost like a foreshadowing.

She lends some levity, fawning over Mitch's line about Netflix and rom coms.

Finally, with his heart on his sleeve, he reveals that Woman and From the Dining Table stemmed from all the fears that plagued him whilst she flew back to Atlanta after their terrible fight.

Seeing the look of anguish cross his face has tears swirling in her eyes all over again.

He quickly reassures her he never expected her to call and apologise for anything. And there definitely wasn't a girl who looked like her, nor anyone else to call her name; but he scared himself that afternoon, envisaging a future without her and what that might lead him to... Hey, sometimes he just needs some creative license to make a melody work.

After a moment of knowing, grinning, comfortable silence, she twists up as he pulls her to straddle his lap.

With sparkling blue locked on to crystalline green, she strokes his jaw. "Thank you, baby. I'm so proud of you", she pecks a soft kiss. "I love it, so much. I love you so, so much".

Pulling closer, she pours the depth of her feelings into a long and intense kiss.

>

Showered and dressed - her in his oversized sweats - they finally emerge downstairs to find Gemma has been busy, preparing an impressive spread for brunch.

They all turn and eye Harry eagerly, sporting matching grins.

"Alright, alright!", he relents, pulling out his phone and walking over to the Sonos.

>

With her hand clamped in his, Eloise is soon swiping tears from her face again.

So emotional, so moved, so proud, so in love.

And she's not the only one.


	5. Part E

31st December 2016

Eloise had driven them from Holmes Chapel back to London a few days ago, going via her parent's home in Richmond Park to pick up her phone and all her things before circling back to Hampstead.

Understandably, given recent events and with busy work schedules looming again, they're really not in the mood for a big night out tonight. Asking around friends and family, it seems the feeling is mutual.

She has a week of promo in London for the BBC, then has to head straight back to LA for the final block of filming for Daisy Jones & The Six.

Harry's auditioning musicians for his band in London before flying back to LA with her next weekend.

Mitch had flown in yesterday, with Jeff and Glenne too. It's his first trip to London and Harry has been busily planning a week of must-see things to keep him occupied. The bromance is firmly back in session.

After a long walk on Hampstead Heath and then a fireside pub lunch catching up with their houseguests, they'd had all hands to the pump this afternoon, cleaning, shopping and prepping for tonight.

They'd made the late decision to host a New Year's Eve party. The numbers are growing, but Harry's only stipulation is that everyone comes decidedly not dressed up, with booze and board games. How rock 'n' roll.

Gathered around the island in the kitchen, Eloise and Harry are competitively finalising their platters; huge wooden boards dressed in a variety of cheeses, breads, crackers, fruits, nuts, chutneys and cured meats.

Jeff is sorting the wines; decanting reds and prepping ice buckets to chill the whites and champagne.

Glenne is in the living room, adding finishing touches to the Christmas decorations. Harry had insisted they belatedly put them out to dress the decidedly un-festive and recently empty house.

Mitch is busy fine tuning the playlist for tonight.

>

As everyone arrives, the kitchen rapidly gets overcrowded.

Gemma and Michal are first. Harry gives her grief that her jersey jumpsuit isn't casual enough; he's unimpressed with his jeans too.

But they all soon start feeling decidedly under-dressed when a noisy rabble disembarks from a large taxi. Louise, Nick, Alexa, Pixie, George and Daisy are all dressed to the nines, ready to head on to a swanky party in Soho later. They've already been pre-gaming pretty hard too.

Ben and Mer readdress the balance when they arrive; him in sweats and her in full on festive pyjamas.

They bring Ollie - clad head to toe in Adidas sweats, as befitting his lucrative endorsement deal - and his girlfriend, Milly. Having ignored the dress code, she's even more dressed up than Alexa, and looks entirely out of place amongst the rest of them.

Ben and Matt, his cousins, arrive next; soon followed by Malin, one of Eloise's.

Seeing her arrive just before Niall, Eloise can't help but smirk at the timing; he'd taken a shine to her at Ben's wedding.

Struggling with the long-distance and the pressure of trying to keep things under wraps, he and Selena had mutually agreed before Christmas to go back to being just friends again.

And Malin certainly seems to take a shine to him now, with his newly brunette hair and increasingly buff physique. This could get interesting.

James and Julia, child-free for the night, arrive last, once they'd managed to hand off a clingy Max to his grandparents.

With all the introductions made and drinks sorted, Harry physically herds them all through to the living room, where there's a little more breathing space.

>

With lit candles dotting almost every surface and a fire crackling in the statement fireplace on the far wall, they settle around the oversized coffee table. The atmosphere is warm, relaxed and jovial.

When Harry's attention wavers from his conversation with Alexa and girls, he casts his eyes around the room, checking in on all their guests.

Ollie, Gemma and all their cousins sit chatting, spread on the floor underneath the TV.

James and Niall are in conversation near the door to the dining room.

Mer, Julia and Louise catch up, gossiping on the sofa in front of them.

Ben, Mitch and Jeff stand chatting behind the sofa at the far end of the room.

Alexa and the gang are draped over the sofa opposite and alongside Harry.

Nick and Eloise sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, either side of Glenne, who's expertly shuffling a deck of cards.

He eyes Milly, stumbling slightly in her high heels, returning from the kitchen with an almost overflowing glass of white wine. She's been a bit offish and surly all night, and certainly knocking back drinks. He'd caught her ignoring Eloise a couple of times and also clocked some none too subtle silent communication pass between Ben and Ollie over their heads. Hmm.

His attention flits, as it tends to, back to Eloise.

Sitting on the floor between his spread legs, she has one arm hooked over his knee, surreptitiously raking her fingernails up the underside of his thigh through his soft black sweatpants. Don't even think about it, he chastises himself.

He tries distracting himself with the feel of the soft knit of her black merino jumper under his fingers as he softly massages the nape of her neck. He can also feel the silk of her (his) green and white vertical striped pyjama pants on his bare feet, nestled either side of her hips. That definitely doesn't help.

Glancing around at some of his nearest and dearest, he realises just how integral she's become to all facets of his life, and how embedded she is in amongst all the most important relationships in his life. Smiling moonily, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Bending to sweep her hair aside and press a kiss to the nape of her neck, he tunes into her conversation with Nick and Glenne.

"Yes, that's a firm 'no' to strip poker, Grimmy", she laughs. "Hello! Brothers... Boyfriend's family...", she gestures with a sweep of her arm - to Gem, his cousins, Ben and Ollie.

He leans forward to cough in her ear, "Ahem!".

"...And boyfriend! Obviously!", she adds belatedly, creasing into peals of cackling laughter.

It's infectious, setting him and those around her off too.

They all heckle when Harry hauls her up off the floor and on to his lap, pulling her around to plant a proper kiss on her smiling lips.

"Mmm... Happy two years of that, baby", he whispers lowly as he leans back, making her smile even brighter.

>

Things carry on in a similar vein. With the drinks and conversation flowing, the boardgames don't materialise - much to everyone else's relief.

When Ollie and James wrestle Harry into the sofa for his phone to try to play the album, Eloise takes pity and intervenes.

She can't and won't get close enough to James' wild thrusting in Harry's face, but steps up and neatly disarms Ollie with a swift pinch to a specific spot between the bottom of his shoulder blade and his spine.

Everyone's surprised to see him crumple immediately, whining meekly as he melts into a puddle on the floor.

"What the hell was that?", Niall hollers, impressed and a little intimidated.

"What?", she shrugs, hand on hip. "They're all bigger than me... There was a sacred 'don't kick in the balls' rule growing up, so I had to have some tricks up my sleeve!".

"Does it work on anyone?", Gemma asks, curious.

Ben yelps and spins on his heel to run away from Eloise, but she pounces and it works like a charm. "Does on all my brothers", she shrugs, standing smugly over him on the floor.

"Try me!", Harry grins. Intrigued, and a little turned on.

When it doesn't work, she pouts a frown at his smirk before dropping her hand playfully towards the band of his boxers, visible above his grey Packers t-shirt and low slung sweatpants. They all laugh.

>

After Nick and the girls leave, late, for their other party, they all fit more comfortably on the sofas.

Well, almost. Harry tugs Eloise from her perch on the arm and down into his lap.

When they notice the time and flick the channel from Jools Holland's Hootenanny on BBC2 to the fireworks on BBC1, she scrambles back up to get the champagne from the fridge, ready for the toast at midnight. Gem jumps up to help with the glasses.

They all stand and gather in front of the TV for the countdown.

After cheers, hugs and kisses, they shuffle into an ever awkward huddle to sing Auld Lang Syne. No one actually knows all the words, right? Or even makes it to the end of the song before tailing off?

Harry soon tugs Eloise into the kitchen for some privacy.

"2017 is going to be a big year for you, H", she gazes up at him lovingly, only a little tipsy from the champagne she's been sipping all night.

"And you too, baby", he grazes his thumbs on either side of her jaw before dipping his head to capture her lips in a proper kiss, away from the watchful eyes of their family.

He soon has her pinned up against the marble island with pressing hips, roving hands and probing tongues. Oops.

>

The frantic calls of her name breaks them apart. "Lol!", "El!", "Quick, look!".

Straightening their clothes, they round the corner again to find everyone's attention rapt on the TV, watching a new trailer for War and Peace.

Ahead of the mini-series' TV premiere next weekend, a variety of clips have been on heavy rotation all over the BBC's Christmas programming.

This one is new and longer; the dreamy waltz between Natasha and Alexei, then them laughing and kissing in the snow. It's pretty epic; sweeping and romantic.

Bit awkward, though. She clears her throat, grimacing and wanting to shirk away from the feeling of so many eyes on her from around the room.

"Oh, that one's so gorgeous, Lol!", Mer gushes, twisting round in her seat to beam at her.

"Hmm, prefer it when it's just the back of his head", Eloise winces sassily, tugging at the neck of her jumper, before braving a cautious look at Harry.

He just squeezes her hand and kisses her again, proud as punch. "You're amazing", he whispers.

"God, even that doesn't get you any grief?", Milly snorts. "Shit really doesn't stick on you, does it?", she snipes, slurring somewhat.

It's Ollie's turn to cough awkwardly, chastising her quietly, with a withering look.

"Oh, don't you fucking start!", Milly snaps at him.

An awkward hush falls over the rest of the room.

Whoa! Eloise frowns, taken aback at her sudden attitude, "Umm, sorry-?".

Milly cuts her off abruptly, ploughing on. "Will it be awkward next week? All those press interviews with him?".

Eloise tenses. Wait, is she purposely trying to embarrass her?

"Erm, not for why I think you think, but yeah... I'm not exactly looking forward to it", Eloise says flatly back.

Milly prattles on, turning more fully towards her. "Is he blonde again? I didn't realise he wasn't naturally that dark. Why did they make him change it? Ooh, do you know if that steamy love scene made it into the edit then?".

Eloise cringes, "Err, don't think so... I hope not".

When Milly turns away briefly at Mer's pointed cough, Eloise, unimpressed, turns quickly to Ollie, gesturing at her and mouthing 'What the fuck?'.

Milly takes a long swig of wine before snorting an obnoxious laugh. "Probably for the best... What with that weird birth mark right at the base of his dick!", she says crassly. "Maybe he asked them not to? You'd be keen to keep that under wraps, I'd imagine...", she smirks.

"Mills! What-?", Ollie stutters, confused.

"What?!", Eloise talks over him. "Well, I wouldn't know... I never saw it", Eloise says pointedly, unimpressed at the weird course of this awkward conversation.

Milly scoffs rudely.

"No, really", Eloise says firmly, adding defensively, "...It's called acting, not porn". She can't help but bristle, recalling the hideous similar conversation she had with Harry in this very room way back at the beginning of the year.

She's getting notably pissed with Milly's attitude, and feeling very conscious of all the eyes on them.

Leaning forward to grab the empty champagne bottles off the coffee table, she spins on her heel. Pausing to shrug at Harry and whisper "Sorry, but what the fuck?", she strides into the kitchen, done with her. Yes Milly is pretty drunk, but this seems wildly out of character.

>

Distractedly emptying the ice bucket of its melted slush in the sink, Eloise pauses, tapping her nails against the metal, deep in thought, as the penny drops.

Two brunettes join her in the kitchen; Milly, stumbling on her heels, and Mer, glowering over her shoulder, unimpressed.

"Sorry... If that was, umm, rude... Apparently?", Milly says, completely disingenuously.

Eloise raises a haughty eyebrow before cutting her off. On occasion, she's happy to put her height and piercing eyes to good use. "How would you know?", she levels, stepping closer and speaking lowly.

"Huh?".

"About James' dick? And all that about his hair? He wasn't that dark for very long".

Mer darts shocked eyes to Eloise, stealthily pulling the kitchen door closed.

Milly gapes, looking panicked. But, eventually, she scoffs a laugh. Twisting to glance at Mer, she throws her arms out in a gesture of disbelief. "So she's a fucking detective now, too?", she raises her voice.

"Well, we can't all be perfect, alright?", she rounds back to Eloise. "I know... Because I've seen it", she reveals, oddly smug.

"When?", Eloise gapes. In shock. In disappointment. In rising fury.

"After he friend-zoned you, you mean?", Milly taunts. "Yep", she grins smugly, popping the 'p'.

"Why?", Eloise gasps. "Why would you do that? Oh, my God! You cheated on him? What the fuck?", she seethes, struggling to keep her voice down.

"No fucking way", Mer splutters.

James bustles through the door. As their heads whip around, he hears the strained words and clocks the palpable tension, backing swiftly straight out. "Psst... Ollie, Ben", he hisses.

They file quickly into the kitchen - James, then Ben, then Ollie and Harry - eyes darting confusedly, trying to gauge how this has escalated quite so quickly and to what.

"But you've been together for three years! And with him, of all fucking people? What a horrible, spiteful, unforgivable thing to do...". Eloise is seeing red, and can't be quite sure how much Ollie would have heard when she clocks him in her peripheral vision.

"Well that's just fucking classic! Let's make it all about you, shall we, Eloise?", Milly blusters, but her confidence is starting to waver under the stern looks from their new audience.

"What?! How was-?", Eloise levels, genuinely taken aback.

"It's always about you! ...The fucking hold you have over everyone is just unbelievable", Milly spits out, impassioned.

"Who?!", Eloise scowls, on guard.

"Everyone!", Milly throws her hands up in defeat. "Him!", she gestures to an affronted Harry. "Them!", she sweeps at Ollie and Ben. "Lucas... Your Dad... Literally every guy... Fucking everyone!", she counts on her fingers before balling them up. "How can anyone ever compete?", she asks more quietly, swallowing a sob.

A shocked Ollie finally pipes up. "Mills, what is all this? What are you talking about? Who's fucking competing?".

Seeing how crushed and confused he looks, the steam coming from Ben and Mer's ears and how taken aback and pissed Harry looks, Eloise snaps. She's known for being cool and cutting in an argument; but feeling defensive, and furious on Ollie's behalf for something he probably isn't even aware of yet? Someone might need to hold her back. Buckle up, bitch.

Eloise steps up to Milly. "Pretty sure we're not after the same affection from him, love", she scoffs.

"Not you to him!", Milly looks up to her and tries to explain. "Him to you! Them to you! Your brothers have you on a sodding pedestal. No one else can come close... And it's so fucking exhausting trying".

She continues, unabashed, "I don't even know if you know it... But you've ruined them all, do you get that?".

Whirling around to Harry, Milly pokes a finger towards his chest in warning. "Watch it! She'll ruin you too; and you've got even more to lose".

There's an extended uncomfortable silence, with everyone utterly taken aback at her outburst.

Eloise is rarely rendered speechless. She's incredibly hurt and embarrassed and fuming, but she won't let her voice wobble. "Well... Good to know how you really feel about me, I guess? Wow".

She turns around dejectedly, leaning her hands against the sink and hanging her head as she blows out a deep breath. What the actual fuck?

Ollie starts pacing; his long legs eating up the large kitchen. Pulling at his hair, he tells Milly, "Stop! Please, just stop". He can't, won't put up with this shit.

"See!", she spins and thumps at his muscled chest. "Poor precious Eloise! You can't take it, can you? Well, what about me?".

He pushes her arm away. "What about you?", he spits out. "I don't even know who the fuck you are right now!", he hisses. "Just get out. Go! Anywhere... I don't care where".

Mer presses the panel on the wall to open the gate. She'd already ordered her an Uber; it's waiting outside.

Crestfallen, Eloise looks from Harry, to her brothers, before landing on Mer. "Is that-? Do I-? Have I-?", she trips over her words, stepping towards her hesitantly. "Have I ever made you feel that way?", she asks desperately.

"Think I'm pretty uniquely placed to wade in on this one", Mer chuckles softly as she slings an arm around Eloise's waist and squeezes her affectionately. She rounds to face Milly, who looks like she's finally run out of steam.

Mer doesn't hold back in setting her straight. "Don't go projecting, Milly. Yes, they've all got high standards, but you should have risen above your own insecurities and taken it as a compliment... I damn well do!", she grins at Ben.

He smiles softly back before opening the patio door and ushering Milly out to the waiting taxi.

>

As the kitchen empties out, Eloise takes a minute.

Eyeing Ollie worriedly as he sinks heavily on to a stool at the island, she resolutely can't make this about her right now. She'll deal with how she's feeling later; he needs her now.

As Harry steps up to her and drops his hands on her shoulders, she shakes her head imperceptibly at him.

"Sorry, baby", she whispers with a grimace. "Can you...?", she nods her head to the others in the living room, certainly wise to the dramatic altercation. "Let me sort him and I'll be right in".

Harry nods and squeezes her shoulders, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

Stepping hesitantly up to Ollie, he shrugs her off. "Lolly, please- Is there somewhere I can just be alone for a bit?".

She nods and holds out an arm, gesturing to the stairs.

From the doorway, Harry throws over his shoulder, "Punching bag's in the gym". He nods his head towards the hallway off the back of the kitchen.

The twins share knowing, nodding looks. He's got the right idea.

2017 has certainly kicked off with an unexpectedly punchy start. An omen of things to come, perhaps?


	6. Part F

5th January 2017

Oh, the glamour.

The stylist didn't warn Eloise about this earlier in the week.

Another quick change in the toilets; throwing items from her previous outfit over the stall door to the BBC Publicity Assistant scrambling around on the other side.

They'd just wrapped up their penultimate interview at the Artesian Bar in the luxurious Langham Hotel.

No cocktails, boo. But soon enough...

Two more stops on this mini press tour and then they're done.

Following a day of prep on Monday, they'd had two days of photoshoots and interviews, followed by today's live shows and the final few press journalists. After This Morning, then BBC Radio 2, they're now cutting it fine for The One Show - hence the quick change and make-up check. They'll finish with a final rescheduled interview for the Sunday Times' Culture magazine.

Then, she'll be getting her hands on some wine. Pronto.

Things had been better than she feared they would be with James, but definitely awkward. Not least after the bombshell from New Year's Eve about Milly cheating on Ollie with him.

She felt she'd been relatively restrained when she snapped and gave him a piece of her mind a tense couple of hours into Monday's prep day. After that, he'd been fairly sullen, but had given her space whenever they weren't in the presence of noisy journalists.

>

Clambering out of the stall to re-style her hair - for the fifth time today - and touch up her make-up in the mirror, she casts an eye over her outfit; a black roll neck fine knit jumper, statement monochrome skirt and killer high heels.

Coughing on a cloud of hairspray, she hurries out the bathroom and has to withhold an envious eye roll when she sees James.

He leans casually against a column in the lobby. Scrolling idly through his phone, he looks comfy as anything in the same outfit he's had on for the last few interviews; chunky black boots, black jeans, a grey t-shirt and a black blazer, with a fucking zero maintenance blonde buzz cut.

Fiona, the BBC Senior Publicist, ushers them out, handing over her black leather Celine Nano handbag and long navy woollen Burberry trench coat.

Eloise shrugs them both on as she skips down the front steps, skirting around the noisy family of American tourists blocking the entrance.

Picking her way carefully over the pedestrian crossing at Langham Place, they head directly over the road to BBC Broadcasting House where they're due to film a live interview for The One Show. 

Trying to conceal her grimace at the bracing wintery bite on her bare legs and the pinch of the killer pointed patent black high heeled pumps, she's thankful it's literally only a two minute walk.

Even the friendly team and lovely hosts can't allay her flash of nerves as they're quickly mic-ed up and bustled on to the sofa.

It's her second live TV interview of the day; only her second ever, for that matter.

>

Parrying back and forth, they rehash easy answers to the similar questions about the series and filming that they've had for the last three days.

Despite Eloise's status as a newcomer, they've already mentioned her Dad and brothers, and her glamorous best friends in Adele and Rosie. "So this can't feel totally alien to you, can it?".

She knows exactly what's coming.

Alex Jones, the Welsh host, cringes herself when she says she has to ask about her rumoured relationship with Harry.

Steeling herself, Eloise recalls the rebuttals she'd practiced; mentally scrolling for options she hadn't already used earlier today.

In the press interviews, the publicists are quick to swoop in and explain she won't answer those sort of questions; but she'd still felt the need to try to acknowledge it and dance around an answer, if only to hope they won't fill in the obvious one themselves when they write their article.

But on live TV or radio there's little to no wiggle room to defer, hence the prepping. She'd resolved to try not to lie outright, so approached it like a game, dancing cleverly around non-answers.

Despite the publicist's prepping of producers and hosts earlier today, she'd already had to wheel out various options.   
"I do know him. I met him through my brother. He's a friend of the family".  
"We're really close. He's pretty amazing; a very talented guy".  
"He's one of my best friends".  
"Oh, is that rumour still doing the rounds? We're great friends, we hang out. The paps and media just seem to get overexcited about it".  
"Now he's no stranger to media speculation...".  
"I guess photos taken out of context can be given any angle to weave a narrative...".

That last one was awkward. This Morning showed the papped photo of her on Harry's lap in a bikini - after she'd already tried brushing them off with a 'friends' line. At least it wasn't the one of them caught kissing on the top deck; then she'd have been really squirming, totally busted and caught in the lie. So she figures she should tread carefully.

Taking a subtle deep breath, Eloise gives Alex a small smile, silently pleading to go easy. "Can I give my first 'no comment' answer?", she attempts a swerve with an awkward chuckle.

"Well you can try...", Alex laughs, "But I think that coy smile might say it all!".

Eloise shrugs her off, noncommittally. "I've had advice from lots of good friends who have far more experience in all this than me, and they were all adamant about keeping work and personal life separate. 'Never complain, never explain', you know?". James clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

"Well, I can't argue with that!". Alex shuffles her cue cards in her lap and then poses a final question as a segue to their next feature.

"Now stay tuned because up next, we've got some hints and tips for surviving Dry January...". She turns from the camera back to them, "Are either of you giving it a go?".

James nods. "Yep, I do every year. I've been training hard and busy prepping for a new TV show, so I'm finding it okay so far, to be honest". Yawn.

"And you, Eloise?".

"Oh, absolutely not! I'm back to LA and filming again from Monday, so have been busy catching up with friends and family... I never stood a chance!".

"Well you definitely deserve a glass or two to toast the series. It's wonderful! Thank you both for coming to see us". She turns back to the camera, "War and Peace premieres tomorrow night on BBC1 at 9pm. Don't miss it".

With that, Eloise and James jump up from the sofa as soon as they cut to a VT for the next feature.

After hurried goodbyes whilst unhooking their mic packs, they're bundled into a car waiting outside.

The show started at 7pm and it's not yet 7.15pm. Impressive.

>

As they battle the early rush hour traffic down Regent, Oxford and Dean Streets, Eloise uses the time wisely whilst listening to the publicist's briefing.

She changes her shoes, back into her pointed black suede block heeled ankle boots - still fairly high, but feeling heavenly in comparison to those killer pumps. And pulls her hair from its sleek knot at the nape of her neck into a messier bun high on top of her head. Then cranes to check her lipstick in the rearview mirror as she dials his number, cradling her phone between her neck and shoulder as she wriggles in her seat to shrug her coat back on.

She wouldn't have been clock watching quite as much if Harry hadn't been spamming her silenced phone all afternoon with messages and photos. He and his newly found and formed band embarked on an impromptu pub crawl around Soho.

If his usually perfect spelling and grammar are anything to go by, she hazards a guess at the state they'll be in. She can't wait to meet them all.

Cutting her eyes briefly to James in the front seat, she can't help but look out the window and grin at hearing Harry's cheery greeting.

She can barely hear over the background noise, but just about catches him say they're leaving Soho House now.

Ah, less a pub crawl, then; more a tour of London's exclusive private members clubs. Go figure.

She promises she'll join them in the upstairs bar as soon as she can.

>

They eye the camera flashes warily as they pull up and pile out the car at the Groucho Club, just before 7.30pm.

Fiona, the senior publicist, tugs at Eloise's elbow, pulling her back. Complimenting her on her handling of all the journalists so far, she explains this one from the Sunday Times Culture magazine will be a little stuffier and probably more interested in Tolstoy than sniffing around her relationship.

"Saved the best for last, then?", Eloise quips sarcastically with a gulp. Maybe she'd prefer the Harry dodge after all. With all the practise she's had this week, she's getting pretty good at it already.

But she wasn't born yesterday. She's almost certain that Fiona, having overheard her call with Harry, is holding her back to avoid the risk of a pap frenzy over them ruffling her feathers before the interview. Smart move.

Bundled blinkingly into the lobby, Eloise's attention is resolutely focused on not tripping over the notorious front step. Ushered swiftly down the hall towards the staircase, she's introduced to the journalist in a flurry of air kisses.

She hangs back, equally keen to let the publicists do their thing and to avoid giving the older man a flash of her legs.

After a quick stalemate with James, she heads up first. Well, she can't fault his manners; she'll give him that much. And with her long coat he won't see anything anyway.

Eyeing familiar long dark hair rounding the bend of the stairs ahead of her, she can't help but grin and hurry her steps. "Oh my God, it's Mitchell Rowland!" she squeals goofily.

Him spinning in surprise has them all craning around to look at her too. Harry's head pops up, leaning over the bannister to smile brightly down at her.

Her eyes lock on his for a couple of seconds - just long enough to grin back, hold up her index finger and mouth "One hour, max", before pointing down the hallway to the restaurant and blowing him a kiss.

>

With a sigh of relief, bang on time, she slides from the leather banquette seat under the statement glass ceiling of the Dining Room and gives her final air kisses of the day.

Right, the very next person she greets is getting a proper kiss. She can only hope it's who she's been longing for.

She found going toe to toe with the journalist on Tolstoy's literary tropes surprisingly refreshing, actually. James is no slouch, having gone to Cambridge as well, years before, but she can't deny she felt a smug thrill at getting to show off a bit.

Truth be told, she relishes any opportunity to debunk unfair presumptions of the 'dumb blonde' and 'model slash actress' clichés.

But it was still fairly excruciating; if only for the knowledge that Harry was waiting, just in the next room.

She smirks as she clocks him immediately, loitering near the entrance to the bar, chatting to two dark haired men with their backs to her.

It's exactly an hour later. With his lack of chill, she can't help but wonder if he's been waiting there for her. The thought alone is enough to make her feel a bit warm and fuzzy.

She doesn't want to interrupt but she's thirsty - for that drink and her man.

Stepping right in to give him that proper kiss, she pauses just before meeting his lips to whisper lowly, "I need a drink... And you", before surging in.

Banking on the promise of the private members club, she can't bring herself to care who might be watching. This place has seen far more salacious debauchery.

Conscious of the ribbing from Harry's friends, she soon pulls back.

It becomes a literal step back as her eyes widen in shock at the realisation it's David Beckham and Dave Gardner. They both smile broadly at her whilst elbowing Harry.

Fucking hell, who doesn't he know?

He shakes them off and introduces them merrily - a little glassy eyed and pink in the cheeks.

Dave, a high profile sports agent, eagerly asking after her dad and brothers suggests Harry's been talking about her. Busted.

Before she can give him some grief over it, she just catches his eyes dart over her shoulder before she feels the light touch to the small of her back.

"Excuse me? Eloise, may I have a word?".

She whirls around, but stays intentionally close to Harry and the David's, crossing her arms.

There's an awkward, expectant pause as James eyes her cautiously, raking a nervous hand over his buzzed hair.

She can practically feel Harry's eyes burning into the back of her head.

"I, umm, just wanted to say thank you, for this week... And, erm... Well, I should apologise, for how everything turned out".

She lets that hang for a beat. "Oh, you should? What, for stringing me along and then sleeping with my brother's girlfriend?", she checks, digging her heel in a bit. There's an awkward cough from one of the David's behind her.

James blows out a breath and sets his jaw before finally nodding dejectedly, raking his hand over his head again.

Cutting his eyes to Harry, he advises, "Don't mess her around, mate".

Eloise pivots to look between them.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it", Harry scoffs, pointedly. "And thanks, I guess? For the heads up that you're the type to get in the middle of people's relationships... I saw the fall out too, between Milly and Ollie". He eyes him, knowingly, more than a little defensively.

There's another awkward silence.

James holds Harry's gaze for a bit before nodding curtly again. Holding his hands up in defeat, he takes a step back.

When he cuts his eyes to her, she levels him with a quietly scathing look before turning her back to him; done.

Gratefully taking the large glass of Sauvignon Blanc Harry holds for her, she raises it to them with a quiet "Skål" before taking a huge, settling gulp.

She only just swallows in time before jumping in surprise at the feel of another hand; this time on the back of her arm. This "Excuse me?" is even more hesitant.

Fucking hell, what now?!

She turns to see Fiona, distractedly holding out her forgotten coat, looking a little starstruck at her companions.

"Oh, thank you", she reaches for it.

"Thank you again for this week, Eloise. Great job! You were fab on the lives, but all that Tolstoy stuff just now was genuinely impressive. And well done with James too... And for swerving all the prying so gracefully", she looks pointedly towards Harry. "I can appreciate how tiresome that must get".

With a nod to the large wine glass, Fiona grins to a proudly smiling Harry, "She deserves that!".

Turning to leave, she leans in conspiratorially to Eloise and adds lowly, playfully, "But I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I didn't ask you to please, please get papped with him on the way out? Think of the ratings!".

Eloise gasps. "You're shameless! I'll think of the integrity of my relationship, thanks", she laughs good naturedly, shooing her off.

It feels like the tenth time they've had that discussion this week.

She knows it won't be the last time she has to ask a publicist to look the gift horse of her relationship with Harry in the mouth. But, oh well, it's good thing she can be stubborn as a mule. 

Eloise spins back to him and the David's with a smile; work mode now definitively switched off.

Harry reaches to tug her forward and pull her against his side, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. His hand stays anchored around her waist, fingers dancing playfully over her hip.

>

After chatting for a few more minutes, Harry slides one arm up over her shoulder and swipes the ice bucket with her bottle of wine from the bar with the other. "Come on, there's some people I can't wait for you to meet!".

Their table's tucked away in the far corner. Jewel coloured mismatched sofas and armchairs pop against the dark wooden floor and the bold, art strewn walls.

On their way over, they pass Glenne, queuing at the other end of the bar. "I was worried you were about to start peeing on her for a minute then!", she ribs Harry.

"Oh, do fuck off!", he sasses back.

"Hey, I get it! Gotta mark your territory, right? ...El, you never let on that dude was so handsome!", she jokes, ever the wind up merchant.

Eloise hip checks her playfully into the bar top. "Shut it, you!".

>

After introductions and hugs - and proper kisses on the cheeks, thanks very much - Eloise settles close to Harry, sharing a love seat sofa with their back to the room.

Glenne heads back from the bar, depositing a tray with another round of drinks on the table, already littered with empty glasses.

She steps behind Harry and Eloise and drops a kiss to both their heads. "I was just joking", she whispers apologetically.

Standing straight, she addresses the table, squeezing their shoulders and jostling them together. "It's only fair that you guys get early sight of what you'll have to contend with... They're sickeningly cute and smoking hot, in equal measure".

"Well, cheers to that!", Adam laughs, raising his new full pint.

As Eloise twists to bury her blush in Harry's neck, he hauls her on to his lap before pulling her gently back to look her in the eye.

"Sorry about all that, with him... It's embarrassing", she cringes lowly, biting her lower lip.

He tugs it from between her teeth and swipes his thumb along it before dropping to stroke her jaw.

"You slayed today, baby! All the interviews and him", he grins pointedly. "Don't apologise. If anything, I'm sorry, if I got a bit alpha? But you know what you do to me...". He discretely thrusts his hips up into hers.

She sniggers and nudges him back before leaning in to drop a kiss to his neck, whispering "Behave you! Well, for now..." before twisting back off his lap and facing their grinning audience, hastily tugging her skirt back down.

>

They keep coming - the full glasses.

Eloise attempts a belated intervention with some bar snacks, but they're all well on their way.

She trusts her gut, and her first impressions of this motley crew are stellar.

Adam, she had already met, at a dinner in LA. Harry has known him for years and always swore he'd never even consider another bassist. He's cool and funny, but such a sweetheart - ever ready to whip out his phone to show off photos of his kids.

Sarah, she might be a little in love with, right from the off. She's quieter, but in a knowing, wry, cool way.

Clare is quieter still, but kooky and intriguing.

And she finally meets Molly, Harry's Creative Director. She's been on the scene for a while now, but a lot of her involvement with him so far has been over phone and email. Eloise finds her slightly intimidating, truth be told - must be that cool, creative genius vibe.

Tom is there too - otherwise known as Kid Harpoon, one of Harry's writers and producers, and now his Musical Director, formally on board to help get the live performances and tour together. She knows him well already; he drops by the house in the Hollywood Hills almost as much as Mitch.

None of them seem to have any preconceptions of Harry. They take him as he is - preternaturally talented, passionate and driven. They're evidently charmed by him, just like everyone else, but see something special that convinces them to entwine their careers with his.

Emma, Harry's UK assistant, is also there, and, for once, properly off duty and hanging out.

Eloise will admit to being a tiny bit scared of her, at times - usually when they're intent on messing around and she's all business. But, for the most part, she adores her. She takes great care of Harry, so how could she not?

>

Despite having his back to the rest of the bar, they're amongst the noisiest there and it attracts attention.

There are more than a few taps on his shoulder as they while away a couple of hours.

Thursdays are the new Fridays, after all.

David and Dave are with an achingly cool group including Liv Tyler and Noel Gallagher. They mingle for a while before heading off to a late dinner at Annabel's in Berkeley Square.

Alexa and her on-again boyfriend, Alexander Skarsgård, drop by for a drink before heading on to a party. Eloise has to fake a trip to the toilet to escape where he boxes her into a corner, delighting in finding someone to chat with in Swedish. She's getting too drunk for that, and he's intense.

There are also fleeting appearances from Cara Delevingne and Mark Ronson.

And also Daisy and Pixie, before they head out to party at G.A.Y.

That's two, possibly three former flings, Eloise notes wryly, but lets it slide. She trusts him, and it actually helps her shrug off any residual awkwardness from that exchange with James earlier.

Besides, Jeff lands Harry in it when he reveals he'd snuck off earlier to watch each of her live interviews on his phone. He couldn't be more smitten.

>

Leaving just before 11pm they inadvertently give the loitering paps an absolute field day.

Emma and Molly peel off, but the rest of them jump on a late shout for tacos at La Bodega Negra.

Spilling out the entrance of the Groucho Club - with Eloise emphatically warning them all about that pesky front step - they round the corner on to Old Compton Street.

The camera flashes follow them for the duration of their brisk two minute walk.

Harry keeps himself between them and Eloise, but they're all smiley and relaxed, bantering with the jovial, respectful paps.

He barters that he'll play along so long as they don't follow them to the restaurant door and turn it into something it's not.

Partially obscured by the others, he bundles her into his arms and pushes her first through the restaurant door - masked as a faux sex shop.

Fiona will be thrilled. Damn it.

>

After more margaritas than necessary, they're herded out at closing time at 1am and end up stumbling back through Soho to end up at Lucky Voice. Karaoke, naturally.

What a great gang.

They bond, blow off steam and sing themselves silly until 3am, before finally falling into taxis.

More than earning the hangovers they'll regret once they start thinking about packing tomorrow and the flight back to LA on Saturday morning.

The details are more than a little hazy but every time she then looks at Mitch, Eloise can't help but think he and Sarah would be cute together. Hmm.


	7. Part G

28th February 2017

Things have been busier than expected since they flew back in early January.

Eloise has been filming in various locations around LA. After a boost in funding for the film, they had extra performance shoot days scheduled, which meant extra rehearsal time too.

Harry has had band rehearsals of his own, plus photoshoots and interviews, and meetings galore too, prepping marketing and promotion plans ahead of the single and album launches in the Spring.

But with some careful planning, they have synced up their schedules as much as possible. Enough at least to crawl into bed next to each other every night, and also managed to carve out time to make the most of his 23rd birthday and then again for Valentine's Day too.

So they're busy, but together; happy and settled, feeling content and more loved up than ever.

There's a palpable energy between and around them. Like they're on the cusp of something big and formative.

>

Immediately after his birthday party, he'd spent a whole day with the Cameron Crowe for his extended one-on-one interview for his Rolling Stone magazine April cover feature.

He'd shaken off the niggling tequila-induced headache still tickling his temples, and driven him around LA, listening to music and chatting about anything and everything. They'd first headed to Beachwood Canyon, to listen to some tracks from the album with the guys at Jeff Bhasker's studio; then gone to Laurel Canyon for lunch; then stopped by Ben's office at Television City; and finally headed back down the PCH to the beach for an early sushi dinner.

It had taken a while to dial down the alarm bells sounding in his hazy brain ('Journalist! Media! Fishing! Shit!'), and relax enough to loosen up and just chat shit and listen to great music with a cool guy, who happens to be as obsessed with obscure stuff from the 70s and 80s as he is.

With Cameron's background - not least in writing and directing Almost Famous - Harry did keep enough of his wits about him to vigilantly steer conversation away from Eloise; his current love life, at least.

He knew he'd have clocked a few references during the course of the day - the guys casually asking after her; the group photo of them all on Ben's desk; her name popping up on his phone a couple of times, connected in the car and flashing across the dash before he could divert it.

Cameron's a cool guy, and before Harry dropped him off after dinner, he brought it up, reminding him it's one of the very few things he'd insisted be out of bounds. Presuming he did his homework and knows of the rumours, and possibly that she's filming something he'd be interested in, Harry admitted he could see the parallels and appreciated it would provide him another angle for the article, but he had to insist.

"Look, man. She's worked so hard on this film. It means so much to her. I don't want any of its success to be misdirected because of my name. She's so talented, and I get that we won't always have the relative freedom and privacy we do now... But for this one - her first, big starring role - it has to be all about her, okay?".

Cameron was surprised he brought it up at all, let alone confirmed it. But he must be an incurable romantic at heart; "I get it. For that kind of a reason, I'll keep my word; I won't even let on that you're smitten. But, man, she must have you by the balls?".

"Yeah!", he'd snorted a laugh. "Except I reckon I chopped them off myself and served them to her on a silver platter", he admitted with a dimpled grin, before reaching for a hug and parting with a weighted "Thank you".

>

Stevie, Reese and the production team had been struggling with venues for the live performances. They wanted them to feel as authentic as possible, but had to be pragmatic with the budget and scheduling.

They had staged a few different venues, bringing in some extras and using clever lighting to obscure the small scale and avoid the need for too much work in post production.

But they'd also managed to negotiate a few warm up spots at real venues with real crowds. They'd needed a ruse to explain the cameras, and a fake front couple of rows of extras to look the part and know the words, but otherwise they were just introduced as a band, not as actors.

Eloise found the anonymity surprisingly helpful to assuage her nerves. She was simply Daisy; with no worries of acting and angles and shot lists, it was just about performing and enjoying the music.

Able to get out of her head about it, possibly for the first time in, well, ever, she had her first experience of that euphoric rush of adrenaline coming off stage.

And, wow, she can see why Harry and other artists are so enamoured with touring and getting to share their music with an enthusiastic live audience. It's a phenomenal rush, and she can appreciate all the more now just how people can get hooked on it.

>

She could do with a dose of that adrenaline right about now; she's absolutely bricking it.

Her nerves had been building all morning, hitting fever pitch when they'd left the house just ten minutes ago. She knows they'll only get worse until they peak as soon as the cameras are rolling and she steps up to the mic, sweating under the spotlights.

Squeezing Harry's hand even more tightly, she almost regrets looking over at him.

He's staring up at the letter board with a look of awe and wonder. Shit, this really is a big deal.

Seeing Daisy Jones & The Six writ large across it in red block type has her gulping audibly.

Hearing her, he quickly looks down and chuckles at her terrified expression. Slinging an arm around her shoulder he pulls her in close with a squeeze. "Come on, baby... This is going to be amazing!", he ushers her through the famous doorway.

The legendary Troubadour. It's fairly unassuming from the outside; hidden away on North Santa Monica Boulevard, with its name depicted in white on black in a large old fashioned typeface over the door, below the large vintage letter board. Inside it's a five hundred capacity venue with a relatively small bar. But its history is hallowed; famous for launching Elton John's career in the US, it has also played host to everyone from Carole King and Joni Mitchell, to The Eagles and Guns N' Roses.

They'd been lucky to secure a late booking; one, serendipitously, falling on their very final day of filming.

Daisy Jones & The Six will go out with a bang for their final ever live performance.

Then the cast and crew will drink themselves silly at the wrap party - also to be held here tonight, making use of the space and everyone already being together.

To pad the ranks of extras, they had been asked to invite friends and family; all excited to finally hear them live, get kitted out in 70s garb for potential on screen cameos, and then join the wrap party too. It's a win-win, for everyone.

>

Stepping inside, they're taken aback by the bustle of the crew - hurtling around the venue, hauling and checking equipment. It's gloomy inside, even in the morning sunshine.

The First Assistant Director spots her looking around dazedly and jogs over. He runs over the schedule whilst calling for her production assistant over his radio to show her backstage.

"Can I just have a minute first? Up there?, she asks, hooking her thumb to the stage.

Tugging Harry along behind her, they step up, carefully picking over the partially assembled sound and lighting rigging to stare out at the venue. Wow.

They share a moment. He gives her one of his pep talks. She promises she'll do the same thing for him in less than three months, when he'll do it here for real.

Then Stevie sneaks up behind them and gives them both a pep talk. Fucking wow.

>

Her assistant interrupts and shows them to Eloise's dressing room whilst the crew finish up and prep for the first soundcheck and rehearsals. Flushing bright red, she avoids looking directly at Harry the whole time, tripping over her feet in her haste to back straight out the door.

"I'm impressed we've managed to find someone even more nervous than me right now!", Eloise manages to joke.

He hauls her into her lap and rakes a hand soothingly over her back. "You've got this! Take your time to feel it out; it's your rehearsal. It's just you and the guys, babe... I'm not putting any extra pressure on you today, okay? I'll stay here until you tell me otherwise", he says softly. "I can even try and keep Stevie out your hair too, until you're ready", he adds with a chuckle.

>

After warming up and hurrying though their first soundcheck, they start rehearsing. It's a closed set; just them and the music technicians, getting the feel for it.

Surprisingly, reassuringly, it sounds and feels pretty good. This could be fun.

They're all going for it; there's nothing left to lose.

>

As they soundcheck again with the wider audio crew, plus Stevie and their director, Jim, Eloise spots some familiar faces by the sign-in table near the door.

Laden with a mountain of printed ID badges, NDAs and photography waivers ready for signatures, and signs prohibiting phones and recording, it's manned by two frazzled looking production assistants; trying to check everyone off and keep on top of the queue already snaking out the door.

She can see her agent, Charles, talking with Ben. And Mer, Rosie, Adele, Jeff, Glenne, Mitch and Tom, all huddled close; chatting excitedly.

James is back in the UK, so Julia has her hands full with the kids at home. Something about him auditioning for a role as an oversized singing CGI cat? She assumed he was joking; but you never can be quite sure with him.

Keeping one ear on the sound crew's conversation going on around her, but mostly over her head, she eyes her gang closely.

They're all looking around keenly at the bustle of the crew, the chaos of the temporary set and hastily constructed gig. Mer delights in pointing out the canvas director's chair with her name printed across the back. It's like it's just hitting them that this is what she does; that she's kind of made it.

She frowns when she spots Harry leaning over the table, talking to the producer at the desk, gesturing up to her and looking a little antsy.

Whispering to Stevie that she'll be right back, she juggles her mic between her hands as she steps carefully over the equipment and rigging to make it down off the stage and across the floor to them.

They all start cheering and squealing, making her blush and hush them, embarrassed at the extra attention.

She runs a hand soothingly up Harry's back, "Everything okay?".

A little sheepishly, he admits there are a few extra extras. But they wanted to surprise her, so hadn't managed to complete all the paperwork.

Turning her by the shoulders, he gestures to the front of the queue by the door. It's her mum and dad, and Anne and Gemma; they've all flown in specially.

Anne took a little convincing, but he knew she could do with a break. She's also been invested in Eloise's Daisy journey since almost the very beginning, so he knew she'd love the opportunity to see her live on stage. He's been keen to give her something positive to focus on, even if just for a bit.

Eloise is blown away; stepping towards them, she first pulls back and throws her arms around him. "Oh, thank you, baby! Thank you, so much".

After swiftly peppering him with kisses, she dashes over and sweeps them all into hugs, ushering them quickly through and politely insisting the producers sort the paperwork for them now as they've travelled so far.

As the instruments tune up again, Stevie chases her good naturedly over the mic. "We're on a tight schedule, Miss Cadogan, you better not miss your cue...", she singsongs with a laugh.

She just about manages to wrestle the mic from the back pocket of her jeans in time for her opening verse of A Hope Like You.

"I'm easy talk and cheap goodbyes / Second-rate in a first-class disguise / My heart sleeps soundly, don't wake it / A hope like you could break it".

This one drips with hopeful but uneasy emotion, rather than the heartbroken fury and anguish of the other two they're playing today. Slower, she lets the rasp in her voice catch on the elongated vowels.

Grinning at their shocked expressions, she blows playful kisses and skips back to stage midway through the verse.

>

By her final verse they've all moved closer to the barrier by the stage, and her eyes lock with Harry's intensely.

"Yeah, maybe I should stake my claim / Maybe I should claim my stake / On the chance the hope is worth the break".

Eloise lets her voice catch on the last word. She has to close her eyes and break his gaze for that one; it doesn't bear thinking about.

>

She thought she'd find them in her dressing room after soundcheck, but it's empty, bar her glam crew, setting up.

They're not out back at the catering trucks either, so, grabbing just an apple, she heads back inside. The thought of trying to stomach anything heavier makes it churn even more.

Shit, this is different to their other performances. On the sound stages she could focus more about the performance, knowing they could go again on the music. At the real gigs it was all about the music and the crowd. But here, she has to nail both; with the clock running down and the eyes of her nearest and dearest fixed on her.

She gets some light relief from her angst when she creases into laughter at the doorway to the extras wardrobe room.

Harry's looking delighted with himself, already sporting a shaggy shoulder length wig, flares and a sweater vest over a bell sleeved shirt. She'll bet he snuck in and picked that out earlier.

The others are excitedly flicking through the hanging rails and chatting with the wardrobe assistants.

Her eyes dart to the sound of her dad's booming laugh; he's already donned a similar shaggy wig, but she blanches at the worryingly small flares he's holding up with glee. She should have known he'd be over-enthusiastic about all this.

But it's seeing Mitch, exactly as he was earlier, that makes her lose it.

Hearing her infectious laugh, they soon flock around her, excitedly showing off their wares.

She's pulled away again by her production assistant, back to her dressing room, whilst the others are instructed to head to catering for lunch as soon as they're done with wardrobe.

>

The final soundcheck and dress rehearsal takes place whilst the extras are filtered through and shuffled around into position. Her lot had all ensured they were right at the front of the queue.

When Reese and Stevie step on to the stage to introduce the cast, they all pay rapt attention and look around eagerly for their first sight of her as Daisy.

"These guys are so excited to have you all here for their final performance. You're in for a real treat... But they're nervous, so be nice!", Stevie chuckles.

Reese takes the mic and pipes up. "We'll do soundcheck as them but then everything else will be in character and with the cameras rolling, so don't go calling their real names or y'all will ruin it, y'hear?", she warns.

>

As Eloise climbs the steps to the stage in full costume, she can just about pick out some of their individual hoots and gasps. But she tries to avoid looking out into the crowd whilst the lights are up; this is nerve wracking enough without the added distraction of familiar faces.

"And, finally, give it up for our Daisy... Our third Brit, the very special, Eloise Cadogan", Stevie cheers.

She looks nothing like herself.

A ripped pair of baggy denim cut-offs, but with the hems rolled all the way up to her crotch - her long legs are out-out. A pair of round, orange lens sunglasses pull her very long, wavy, red hair back off her face. She's braless (fuck you, Daisy) under a white cropped tank top, but with an open, semi-sheer embroidered and tasseled kaftan wafting around, tickling her bare legs.

Heavily bejewelled, gold rings adorn each of her fingers, bangles line her wrists and big hoop earrings brush her neck.

She holds a pair of terrifyingly high, cork-heeled, white platform sandals in her hand. The heels are always her final transition into Daisy.

Her skin's pale and made up to look like she's dewy and almost entirely bare-faced, bar lashings of clumpy mascara and smudged eyeliner, which make her dark blue eyes pop.

She's been spritzed around her hairline with what should look like fine beads of sweat. As a drunk and strung-out skinny scrap of nothing, who probably hadn't remembered to eat for a couple of days, Daisy would definitely struggle under these hot studio lights in a crowded and noisy underground club.

Shit, it's hot up here on stage.

Playfully dodging Suki and then Sam's advances on her way across it, she drops the shoes neatly at the base of her mic stand before straightening up and addressing the crowd, bashfully. "Well, umm, hello!".

Stepping up to her, Stevie laughs. "Enjoy these sweet accents now, guys", she sweeps an arm to Sam and Suki too. "You won't hear them for a while... And if this one trashes her voice on stage like I want her to, you won't hear much of her at all at the party either".

Even without the heels, she towers over them both already. When Reese pulls Eloise down for a quick hug, the mic picks up her quiet "Enjoy this girl, go wild!".

>

They sound check the instruments, then harmonies and backing vocals first, then Daisy and Billy - snatches of the two of them together and then individually.

The sounds techs have to keep reminding the crowd of extras to keep quiet, for now, whilst they're checking all the levels.

Guzzling water, El crouches at the edge of the stage and signals for the 1st AD. Pointing out Harry and Mitch in the front row, she asks for them to be moved over so they're not directly in front of her. Way too distracting. "Sorry!", she mouthes to them both with a grimace.

>

After the final preening and subsequent nods of approval from the hair, make-up and wardrobe teams, it's game time.

At the three minute warning, the band have a final huddle and group hug.

Stepping back to her mic, she flexes the joints in her feet both ways before bending to strap on Daisy's vertiginous platform sandals.

There's a singular cheer from somewhere in the crowd - she'll wager Rosie - as she straightens back up, rocks on the balls of her feet to find her new centre of gravity, and takes a few strutting paces back and forth.

Taking a final gulp from her water bottle, she tosses it to her assistant. The water marauding as neat vodka on the rocks at the base of her mic stand will have to do for now.

Wincing as they angle her spotlight higher to offset the heels, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Arching her neck from side to side, she runs through her mental check list.

Set list, lyrics, cues, shot list, camera angles, breath control, accent, slurred drawl, inebriated swagger, and heels... She knocks them together, for luck.

Opening her eyes, she inadvertently finds Harry again straight away, even in his new position, further to her right. With his elbow propped on the barricade and chin resting in his palm, his eyes are locked intensely on hers; looking full of pride, awe and love.

She can't help but grin; Daisy would have him for breakfast.

>

Harry feels like his senses are in hyperdrive, trying to take in and remember every little detail.

His attention, as always, is captivated by Eloise, but he also catches snatches of Suki too, jamming at her keyboard.

He shifts his gaze to eye Sam, strumming at his guitar, singing pretty effortlessly with a rocky grit to his voice. He's a little older, and a nice enough guy, but a tiny bit too try-hard to be cool. But, to be fair, Billy's denim-on-denim might not be helping with that.

It's not that he has any worries over him and Eloise. He'd been thrilled to finish the book and see that Billy and Daisy only shared one awkward quick kiss; the rest is just intense emotional angst. He wished he could say the same for all Daisy's other conquests, but, luckily, they were implied rather than explicitly shown. The most outrageous thing on screen by far would be all the drug taking.

But, honestly? He can't help but feel a flash of envy seeing him up there, alongside her, like that...

He's curious, and can't help but wonder what he and she would sound like together, like that? Could he stretch his voice like she has hers? Could he have risked that?

He's struck with a thought; recollecting something that he'd barely even registered at the time, on the drive down to Babington House when Eloise heard that she'd made it down to the final two for Daisy. She'd flashed him a coy little smile when she'd said to Charles that maybe she did have an idea about someone who could play Billy, but wasn't sure she could pretend to hate him... He'd completely overlooked it at the time, too excited for her.

But, what if?

What if he hadn't drunkenly kissed her at that New Year's Eve party? What if they hadn't then been on that same flight, or both gone to that yoga class? What if he'd kept auditioning after being offered Dunkirk? Would he have been brave enough to go for a bigger role in much smaller, riskier film?

What if he would have been her Billy? Would she have been able to hate him, after all? What would it feel like to share all this with her?

Ultimately, he wouldn't change a thing. He wouldn't dare risk changing anything that has led to where he is, right now. Bursting with pride and overflowing with love for her. This is all hers. He wouldn't want to distract anything - neither her nor the attention she's due.

He shakes it off and focuses his firmly back on her.

>

After a cue from the director, the venue lights fade to black and the crowd segues from chattering to genuinely enthusiastic cheering. As the stage spotlights fire up, a couple of softer lights rove over the crowd.

Two cameramen heft heavy handheld rigs up on to their shoulders. They'll roam each side of the stage and shoot the band members individually and collectively.

There are two dolly tracks laid between the stage and the crowd. One with a camera rolling side to side, capturing the band. The other facing the crowd, roving for their reactions, close up and wider.

Other than the opening of one of the songs - where Eloise apparently needs to try to crawl through the camera lens and into the soul of each viewer - it's supposed to be observational, so the actors don't need to worry about or even look at the cameras.

Which is a relief, and and one less thing to worry about. But, as for that soul thing, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

She shakes it off, and lets Daisy possess her instead.

>

"And... Action!".

Adjusting her mic stand higher, she addresses the crowd in Daisy's husky SoCal drawl. "Give it up for The Six...".

"...And the one and only, Daisy Jones! This is Chasing the Night", Sam adds as Billy. No trace of his received pronunciation either.

The drummer counts them in and the bass starts its growling lick, before the guitars and keys come in on a riff, playing through their chords.

When Daisy folds down to snag her glass for a sip of 'vodka', the clinking ice cubes are picked up on her mic, as is the satisfied smack of her lips.

With a haughty raise of her eyebrow, she lifts her other hand to angle her mic and starts singing. The glass remains loosely gripped in the other, index finger free across the rim to point and gesture as she sloshes it carelessly around.

"Trouble starts when I come around / Everything's painted red when I'm in town / Light me up and watch me burn it down / If you're anointing a devil, I'll take my crown".

She starts low, picking over the words, with attitude dripping from her elongated vowels.

As the base track climbs and Billy joins in for the chorus, she kicks up a gear, meshing well with his lower harmony.

"Foot on the gas, add fuel to the fire / I'm already high and going higher / Charging faster, ready to ignite / Headed for disaster, chasing the night".

With her willowy silhouette picked out in the harsh spotlight, she struts and staggers in short, pulsating movements, long limbs moving to the heavy beat.

The crowd lap up the driving instrumental and surging vocals. But you could hear a pin drop after the haunting refrain.

"Oh, you're chasing the night / But it's a nightmare, honey, chasing you".

For just a beat, the only noise is from their mics; picking up their panting breaths and the final reverberating echo of the electric guitar through the amplifiers.

Then, the crowd starts hooting and hollering.

Jim, the director, yells "Cut!".

"Yes!", Stevie calls over the din. "More like that! More, more, more!".

"Great stuff guys!", Jim echoes. "Remember, camera front and centre for Daisy's opening verse for this next one. Someone top up that glass too".

>

Regret Me is Daisy's furious, broken-hearted missive to Billy.

She kicks up another gear or three. Her voice reduced to thrums, rasps, growls and wails. The fury and the emotion is palpable.

"When you look in the mirror / Take stock of your soul / And when you hear my voice, remember / You ruined me whole".

The cameraman pivots seamlessly back from her as she turns to Billy and starts snarling at him.

"Don't you dare sleep easy / And leave the sleepless nights to me / Let the world weigh you down".

She gets down on her knees in front of the growling bass guitar at one point, sending dirty looks to Billy as she moves suggestively, intent on inflicting maximum damage.

"I won't go easily / Regret it / Regret saying no / Regret it / Regret letting me go".

"One day you'll regret it / I'll make sure of it before I go".

At the end of this refrain she smashes the empty 'vodka' glass down between them.

Eloise, who? Daisy is not playing tonight.

"Holy shit, cut!", Jim shouts, jumping on stage to check on where she's bent double and sucking in deep breaths.

Sam joins him, stepping cautiously around the shards of glass as a crew member jumps up to place another glass by her mic stand before hastily sweeping up the mess.

Eloise straightens back up, laughing and totally overcome, but so into it.

>

After hair and make-up touch ups, and some hastily gargled honey and lemon for her, they shoot the final track.

A Hope Like You - it's the one they'd heard a sneak preview of during the first soundcheck.

It's wordy, but lighter and more playful. It's mostly Eloise, with Suki on the keys.

During the chorus, Eloise slowly windmills her long arms in Daisy's signature move; the fringed sleeves of the kaftan swooping low towards the floor and arcing high over her head.

They have a whale of a time, interacting on stage.

So much so, the crowd and crew demand a final encore.

>

When the directors shouts "Cut!" over the cheering for a final time, and officially wraps the movie, the band come together.

As soon as Eloise pulls off her platforms and dashes over, the seven of them meld into a sweaty, ecstatic, jumping huddle. They only break apart when the hot stage spotlights switch off and the main venue lights come back up.

As Jim, Reese, Stevie and Taylor, the author, climb on stage to join the celebrations, the 1st AD starts issuing instructions; for the extras to head back to wardrobe, for friends and family to stay put but pull out their ID badges, and for catering to bring the champagne and glasses.

Despite his 70s get up, a few fans approach Harry as the crowd starts shifting. He manages to eschew any fuss or attention, beyond quick hello's and a couple of hugs; no one has their phones or any pens on them, on account of the NDAs and the closed set. Today is absolutely all about her.

He and Mitch stay at the front and let the others find them.

Harry watches Eloise closely, practically shaking with adrenaline, but starting to come back to herself and put Daisy to bed. She downs a bottle of water, then ties up her long hair and wipes herself down with a towel.

Champagne bottles are handed out on stage and popped on a count of three.

Sam and Suki gang up and spray their shaken bottles on a squealing Eloise.

"No! Don't bloody waste it!", she croaks, laughing as she reaches for the towel again.

They pose for the on-set photographer whilst the champagne glasses are filled and handed out to everyone.

After a teary thank you from the author, and a simple but heartfelt toast from the director, Stevie takes the mic. "I'd buy a ticket to your stadium tour tomorrow! I am so proud of you guys", she says, a little choked. "Can you write us a sequel?", she jokes to Taylor.

Then Reese takes the mic and centre stage, as is her wont.

"Okay, so our self-deprecating Brits will hate this, but I'll get drunk and say way more tonight anyway, so you need to prepare yourselves... But, for now, I will just say the biggest thank you. I've worked on lots of projects and lots of sets with lots of great people, but I've honestly never enjoyed it this much. I am so grateful that we got to wrap this today, like that. It's insane to think you're actors and not a real band. Thank you, for bringing that energy today, every day, for the last eighteen months. You've poured yourselves into these amazing characters... I mean, Eloise might need Daisy exorcised or something! This is so much more than blood, sweat and tears, you've put your body and voice on the line for this and it will pay off, I promise you", she pulls Eloise in with an arm slung around her waist.

"Ladies and gentlemen...", Reese raises her glass and addresses the crowd of friends and family gathered beneath the stage, "Please give it up, one very last time, for Daisy Jones and The Six!".

They cheers.

With a shaky hand, Eloise raises her glass to her loved ones, standing directly below her. She sends them a beaming smile as she wipes away a happy tear. She mouthes "Skål" and promptly throws her head back and downs her champagne.

Handing her glass back, after final hugs to everyone on stage, she taps her mic stand in farewell, snags her platform heels and steps to the edge.

Harry has his arms outstretched already, so she bends, drops the shoes, and plants her hands on his shoulders to jump down.

She's immediately swallowed up into his hug and kiss before being pulled around to everyone else. There's lots of gushing and happy tears.

The 1st AD calls the rest of the extras back to wardrobe.

"Ugh, I need a shower", she grimaces, stepping self-consciously out from under Harry's arm as they head backstage.

>

With a knock, Harry cranes his head around her dressing room door, proffering a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon and two glasses.

He grins to see her in just a towel; long damp hair already back to blonde again.

Thinking she was done filming, she'd already stripped out the red before this final day was added to the schedule. Oops.

But with her final wash-out red tint now rinsed down the drain, and red clip-in hair extensions in a tangled heap on the vanity, she's back to Eloise, for good... Well, until Villanelle, but she's blonde too, for the most part. And that's still quite a few months off yet.

Emptying his hands, he locks the door behind him and pulls her into a tight hug and a passionate kiss. She's left him speechless this time.

He gushes, practically incoherently. So proud, so impressed, so in awe, so inspired. So turned on. Fuck, is this what that feels like? Watching someone you love up on stage doing what they love? Wow, he gets it now.

When she laughs throatily and tries to cut off his praise, he groans and presses his hips harder into hers. Her voice is trashed, husky and gravelly; it's killing him.

"And, fucking hell, that move with the bass guitar? You minx! You better hope they didn't get my reaction to that on camera", he smirks, picturing it again in his mind.

"I hope they didn't get me almost stacking it in those damn heels trying to get back up! Yeah, did not think think that one through", she laughs, stepping out of his reach.

He continues fluffing up her ego and topping up her champagne as she gets ready.

A simple black silk camisole (finally with a bra, fuck you Daisy), tucked into blue skinny jeans.

She pulls her damp hair into messy plaits over the crown of her head, replaces her own jewellery and tops off her outfit with her beloved shearling slippers. Bliss.

>

They've quickly transformed the venue for the wrap party; streamers strung, disco ball hung, lights strobing and music pulsing.

Arriving back out just thirty minutes later, her friends and family are shocked to see that Eloise has transitioned so quickly back to herself.

With comical double takes, the other cast members' friends and family barely recognise her. Her dad, proud as punch, makes sure they do.

Pulled into more hugs and gushing congratulations, her performance is all the more impressive in direct comparison to her own elegant and calm self.

She's cringing hard and dying a bit inside at all the attention and praise, but quickly realises if she protests, they just redouble their efforts. So blushing "Thank you's" seem the best bet.

It's Mitch that almost makes her cry. Slinging an arm over her shoulder at the catering table, he leans in to whisper, "See, I told you there was something special about you too... Believe me now? Get it yet?". He hip checks her, playfully.

Harry sidles up and cuts in, nosily, "Get what?".

"...Lost!", Mitch sasses, "We're having a moment here, man!".

>

Soon after, Reese and Jim gather them all round a large monitor to surprise them with an early edit of the trailer. They explain it's just a rough cut, and obviously doesn't include anything from today yet, and the footage hasn't been treated or mastered, but they'd used it to successfully pitch for money from the studio for today and for post production and marketing... She cranks the volume and hits play with a broad grin.

The screen starts black, then the instruments build one by one as spotlights outline their silhouettes through hazy smoke. Then, as Eloise's voice comes in, they cut to a close up of her singing intensely to camera before she turns and sings, snarls, to Billy, before the camera cuts to him.

When their voices come together for the chorus, they layer over frenetic fleeting clips of backstage, recording, the tour bus and parties.

The lyrics fade out and they overlay a gravelly voice over from the older Billy. "When did I know? I could feel my microphone vibrating as they screamed and stomped their feet and I thought, holy shit, we're rockstars!".

It cuts to a husky voiceover of Michelle Pfeiffer, playing the older Daisy. "It didn't matter how much of an asshole I thought Billy was. When you can sing like that with someone, there's a part of you that feels connected to them. That gets under your skin... Billy was like a damn splinter."

Cutting to a shot of a raucous crowd, it starts silenced but slowly ramps up in volume, overlaid again with the voiceover of older Billy, "How did I feel about Daisy Jones? Ha, how long have you got?".

Michelle cuts emotionally back in over the growing cheering of the crowd. "It killed me, to look at him and her. I can't think of any two things that make you quite as self-absorbed as addiction and heartbreak...". She adds, scathingly, "But, God... Billy could just be such a cun-".

The eventual full roar of the crowd drowns out the curse, just in time. The film title appears over the wide shot of the crowd, accompanied with a snarling riff from an electric guitar.

The trailer is intense. It leaves you holding your breath and desperate to know and hear more.

Eloise's shocked expression - mouth agape and skin covered in goosebumps - matches just about everyone else's.

Sam cuts the stunned silence with a whoop, "Play it again!".

It hits Eloise. This is real. She's starring in a Hollywood movie. And it's looks like it actually might be a really good one.

When they get to the title card again, it's her turn to shout excitedly, "Holy shit!".

They all pounce with more congratulations and flattery, and the champagne corks pop again.

>

The party's great fun and she's on cloud nine.

Even her mum seems moved, and says some quietly lovely things to her.

Inevitably, it ends up with karaoke - everyone's eager to say they've graced the Troubadour stage.

Unsurprisingly, her dad is one of the first up there, winning himself a legion of new fans with The Beatles' Come Together. His voice is pretty decent, but he was strutting around more like Jagger than McCartney. Hmm, no wonder where Eloise gets her theatricality from then.

It's pretty telling that she gave the role her all and has nothing left to give, when she has to hand the mic to Adele in defeat, half way through Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero.

Harry then holds out too, in solidarity, and because today's all about her. He holds firm through Reese's nagging. His resolve waivers, understandably, when Eloise's sultrily reminds him of the power of seeing the one you love up on stage, doing what they love; but it doesn't break.

But when Stevie overhears and intervenes, he caves. "Not that you should be denying this one anything today...", she gestures to Eloise, "But you wouldn't turn down this old girl, would you? What do you say, will you sing The Chain with me?", she grins.

His favourite, with his favourite, for his favourite? How could he ever turn that down?

Eloise definitely loves it; Harry and Stevie sound incredible together. Seeing Mitch and Tom trade looks, she leans over. "Oh, my God... For tour? Yes!", she squeaks excitedly.

Trying to sing along at the front of the crowd, her own voice is barely a scratchy whisper, almost entirely gone. She gave Daisy everything she possibly could.

Now she just has to wait and see how she repays her.

>  
>

1st March 2017

The after effects of the champagne kicked in as the adrenaline started wearing off, and Eloise flaked hard.

Waking up in bed a solid twelve hours later, just before noon, she can't remember getting home and is pretty sure she didn't drink enough to get blackout drunk, so figures she must have fallen asleep somewhere... Hopefully in a car and not at the Troubadour. Daisy would be woefully unimpressed at that kind of distinctly un-rock'n'roll behaviour.

She needs to remember to thank Harry for getting her home, upstairs, stripped down to her knickers and safely tucked into bed; she must have been an uncooperative dead weight.

Feeling more human after a shower, she hears Gemma in the guest bedroom and impulsively asks her to cut her hair.

Except, when she tries to open her mouth, not a peep comes out. She's never completely lost her voice before, but manages to get Gem on side via lip reading and miming.

"You know, if you still had the red hair you'd make a perfect Ariel right now", Gem quips.

Eloise can't help but roll her eyes affectionately; The Little Mermaid is one of Harry's favourite Disney films too.

>

Heading downstairs a while later, she finds their families gathered on the balcony, ready for a long, lazy brunch. Mmm, carbs.

In her trusty denim shorts, one of his t-shirts, her favourite silk bra (take that, Daisy), and her freshly cut choppy long bob, she feels rested, lighter and freer already... If a little muted.

>  
>

3rd March 2017

After two days of finally getting to work on her tan, she's just been lounging around, eating and hanging out with their families, emptying her head of everything. And absolutely nothing else.

Including no talking. With both Harry and Adele insisting she take it seriously, she's been on total vocal rest; firmly in listening mode only.

But, other than that, she's already feeling great.

>

After his mum and Gemma head upstairs to pack, Eloise and Harry have a rare moment alone.

Lounging on the balcony sofa with her head in his lap as he rakes his fingers through her shorter hair, she's casually scrolling through Instagram.

She'd finally relented and set up a public account during the War and Peace promo, and figures she should probably add something vague about wrapping Daisy.

She already has over three hundred thousand followers. Casting an eye over their user names, she'd hazard a guess that at least three quarters of them are Harry or One Direction fans. She's already turned off her notifications, and limited comments and tagging, so figures if she stays logged into her private account and only dips into the public one to post things as and when needed, she should hopefully be able to avoid too much bother. Let's see.

Not having noticed he's stopped playing with her hair, he nudges her with his hip to get her attention, looking down at her with a dimpled smirk.

"Sorry, did you say something?", she mouthes.

Luckily, he's pretty adept at lip reading. The only struggle is his staring at her mouth usually leads to them kissing; not that she's complaining, not at all.

No, but he is up to something. "How about you pop upstairs and pack too?".

"Why? I'm not going anywhere", she mouthes back.

"You sure about that?", he smirks wider.

She nudges him impatiently, but he won't budge.

Jumping up, she resorts to straddling his lap, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Her non-verbal communication skills have proved pretty compelling.

But he just shakes his head again, teasingly.

With a roll of her hips against his, she successfully ups the ante.

He propositions her with another surprise. "Okay, okay! Well... I have a few meetings and fittings with Gucci in Rome, but other than that, we both have two clear weeks free, which is unheard of... So I may have booked us flights and bought a map of Italy? Oh, and reserved an amazing vintage Ferrari to hire... I've got a list of nice hotels and villas but haven't booked anything. I just really fancy going off grid and getting lost for a bit; in you, in good food and wine, on Italian roads... Anywhere, so long as it's just with you".

How could she ever turn down that? Fucking swoon.

After a very quietly whispered "Thank you" and heavy kisses, he pulls back.

"It was the Ferrari that clinched it, wasn't it?", he smirks again.

"Pasta and pizza, actually", she whispers back.

But her kiss tells a different story. It's all him; the rest is just a bonus.

"Yeah, sure! Now hush you, or do I need to find ways of keeping you quiet?", he smirks again before standing them both up and dragging her upstairs.

To pack, mostly.

Series continues with '8 | Only you'.


End file.
